Derelict Junction

When Geek Worlds Collide.

2005-10-15T12:59:00.000-07:00

Last month, Bourdet and I saw Vancouver super-group the New Pornographers at Bimbo's. As is the custom, during the song breaks, while Crazy Carl Newman is doing comedy crowd-work and Neko Case plays along like a saint, people like myself will randomly scream out song requests (the word "Free" & "bird" were never spoken).

During a quiet moment, I screamed "YYZ!" Some dude near us started screaming "YYZ" as well. Being good Canadians, they obliged us for just a moment and started playing this sacred anthem of Rush lore before realizing the inherant hilarity and stopped.

For those who know not the YYZ, you are pure. Please turn away from the screen. For those who want to see what happens when the worlds of computer animation and obsessive Rush fans collide, try this:

YYZ

But you've been warned! -Not a hit point of charisma to be found. You can thank/blame Shuggie for bringing this fine piece into your consciousness.

Conversely, plenty of charisma here:

Let's stick with music...

2005-10-14T18:36:00.000-07:00

Can you tell the difference?:

If you were as drunk as Liam Gallagher, probably not:

Gallagher vs. Martin

Also, and this might not be a popular opinion, but I have to nominate System of a Down as the worst band in the world right now. Critics continue to sing their praises, all the while ignoring their overwhelming Spinal Tap nature. Only problem with SoaD is, they are 100% serious. No irony, no satire, no joke. Here's a sample of some of their lyrics:

From "Peephole":
"When your stars are baked,
And your rivers fly,
Do you ever believe you were stuck out in the, Sky,

When your castle breaks,
And your feet are dry,
Do you ever believe you were stuck out in the, Sky,

When your moon is fake,
And your mermaids cry,
Do you ever believe you were stuck out in the, Sky..."

Totally serious.

From "Darts":
"Art Thou Not Human Man,
Not Human Man Art Thou.

Arise as did the gods Ninti, and Ishkur!"

No Irony.

And now for some intentional humor...
Don Asmussen

Whoa!

2005-10-08T12:54:00.000-07:00

'Been a while since I've been back here. Even now, I gotta keep it short. So, for you amusement:

The Shittiest Mix Tape Competition

That guy, Aziz Ansari, is now my new hero, simply for going through with it.

As I told Sean, here's my list of 5 worst songs mixtape:

1. Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire"

2-5. Doesn't matter.

Song #1 puts me over the top and crowns me the indisputed all-time champion of this competition.

Local Douchebag of the Year Award...

2005-09-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

I'd nominate this guy, but it seems like he's gonna simply run away fromt he rest of the pack. Therefore, Bay Area Douchebag of the Year goes to SF Gate columnist Mark Morford, who in responding to emails complaining that his weekend coverage of Burning Man excess during the worst Natural Disaster in American History wrote:

"In other words, in the aftermath of hurricanes and national tragedies and in the face of the most ham-fisted and heartless and freedom-stabbing administration in recent American history, we need this sort of "trifling" Burning Man fluff more than ever, to act as spark, as beacon, as counterbalance. I know, it's not a perfect idea. It solves no ecological woes. It saves no lives from the floodwaters. But it's all we've got.
Burning Man is nothing if not all about the celebration of life, the illumination of spirit and the glittery determination of the human soul to find raw joy in the world no matter what, to redefine community and break out of normal modes of thought and to openly thwart the demons of uptight neo-conservative sexless dogma, with drinks. To not only survive, but to survive with humor and style and joy and dust and many open-mouthed screams of dangerous bliss, with fire."

See, what I failed to realize is that Morford's coverage of Burning Man was actually helping soothe the pain of Hurricane Katrina.

Hey, I'll be the first to admit that I watched college football over the weekend, but unlike the Burning Man douchebag faithful, I at no point built that up to be anything other than a short diversion and completely insignificant compared to the events in the Gulf.

How pompus and absurd it would be if I droned on about how, now more than ever, we need college football (even though people of that community are probably more interested in LSU and Tulane football more than a bunch of skeevy self-described artists taking drugs in the desert). Burning Man attendees aren't burdened with such humility.

Everyone who comes back from Burning Man boasts of a life-changing experience, but the fact that Morford couldn't put that on hold to show a bit of respect and/or empathy for the Gulf Disaster, other than how Burning Man relates to it, breaks new self-absorbed ground, even for Burning Man people.

Here's a news break, Mark: Burning Man doesn not make you totally unique!

Speaking of great satire...

2005-08-30T00:31:00.000-07:00

Where the hell is the video footage of this?

Borat Tackles Pamela Anderson

Our hero, Borat.

In the Ghet-to!

2005-08-28T20:24:00.000-07:00

There's a great line in Hitchcock's Vertigo where, after finding out that a woman lives in San Francisco's Mission District, the Jimmy Stewart character says, "The Mission? Why that's skid row!"

Now, I'm not a huge believer in corporate conspiracies to keep certain communities down, but this is rather egregious. Check out this Johnny Walker billboard that was up at Mission and 15th Street:
That's right, it's a blurred out Johnny Walker logo with the tag line "Drink Your Self Blind". Just imagine the uproar that would arise if that billboard went up in an affluent suburban neighborhood. In San Francisco's skid row, though, no one seems to care.

Irreverent Rules to Live by #1 & #2.

2005-08-21T01:57:00.000-07:00

There's an amazing book called Rockin' Steady by the great New York Knicks guard Walt "Clyde" Frazier that documents his best learned rules of modern (70's) etiquette. If you ever find it in a used bookstore, or see it for sale on the street corner, do yourself a favor and pick it up. Although you won't be able to incorporate much of his dated advice into your daily routine, you might be inspired to jot down your own social guidelines. If you've lived a rich enough life, it might come distantly close to that of Clyde's.

So in that spirit, here's some of the only rules I've learned that are worthy of passing on to future generations or stuffing into time capsules. If I can remember who taught me these, I'll give due credit. Observe:

1. Drew once told me that, because it was his greatest and most defining performance, Ben Kingsley should always be referred to as "Gandhi". So you should have no problem in casual conversation saying, "Wasn't Gandhi great in Sexy Beast?" or "Liam Neeson was good, but Gandhi was the real star of Schindler's List."

2. From my friend Mac, via a close friend of his, whenever you meet someone famous, think of the worst thing they've done and ask them if that was them. For example, if you meet Joel Schumacher, be sure to say, "Joel Schumacher... Didn't you do D.C. Cab with Mr. T?" Or if you meet Ice-T say, "Weren't you in Breakin' and Breakin' 2 Electric Boogaloo?"

Those should get you thrown out of a few after-parties.

Register to vote now (and often)!

2005-08-09T22:50:00.000-07:00

My Dad's running for City Council back in Massachusetts. All I have to say is, if his opponent is a Jets fan, he should mop the floor with 'em!

See for yourself:
Vote Cleary!

The Green-Eyed Monster (Again).

2005-08-08T22:42:00.000-07:00

When I was young, my mom would call my childhood cat "The Green Eyed Monster". He was definitely one of my happiest memories of being a kid. Such personality; he would go out into the woods, get into fights with other cats/animals, then come back and crawl into my bed to sleep. Even when my brother and I slept in bunk beds, he'd climb the frames to the top bunk and curl up under my chin. One Thanksgiving he came home so beaten up that he lost an eye and had to have an operation that I know my mom couldn't afford, but I pleaded her to get done simply because he continued, even in his battered state, to crawl into bed with me. I figured, if it still made him feel good to be with me then that's all the reason to keep him around, despite all his bad habits.

Well, there's a current Green Eyed Monster in my apartment, who I just went through another dramatic incident with. My current cat, the magnificent Maine Coon Beast Oswald, had his third bout with a urinary tract blockage. I don't dare disturb you with the details, but suffice it to say, it's quite harrowing. Luckily, after a very emotional early morning emergency hospital visit, and some rather serious surgery later, he's doing absolutely fine. In fact, he's back to his usual routine of eating, sleeping, sneaking into my roommate's rooms, playing with my Ipod earphones, and trying to terrorize the birds outside the window.

When I got him eight years ago, I had this misguided idea that despite all my bad habits he would climb into my bed without any judgments, just to be with me. In some ways that's true, but it's been much deeper than I imagined. No doubt, the affinity he shows me is absolutely mind-boggling, and more than I ever thought a pet capable of, but the unconditional affection that I thought I could con a lesser being out of has back-fired. I realized this as he, the one with the catheter and I.V. coming out of him, once again tried to calm me down during hospital visiting hours. All his unconditional affection had unwittingly given me more purpose than I ever imagined, probably more than I ever wanted, and definitely more than I ever thought I was capable of. So, he totally out-smarted me.

On a side note, this was the third time he's had to be admitted to a hospital and once again, the hospital staff fell for all his pretty-cat charms, especially the female nurses and doctors. They all couldn't stop talking about how great he was. Even the doctor went on and on about him! Someone told me he must have picked that up from living with 3 single guys, but I think he's had it all along.

Anyway, I'm just happy to have him back to his old, gimpy self.

Keep on Rocking in the Inner Sunset...

2005-07-31T22:18:00.000-07:00

Friday's French Athletic Club show was a complete success. Despite Matt's insistence that he was out of tune for three consecutive songs (perfectionist rock star!!), it all sounded great to my tone-deaf self. Even their cover of David Bowie's "Space Oddity", which I honestly didn't think would go over well in a bar full of drunken USF guys, was received quite well.

The highlight of the evening for me was the very first song, which would have tickled the post-punk fancy of any Village Voice music critic, lamenting the demise of CBGB's. From there they displayed much versatility with a collection of original and cover songs, culminating with a fantastic rendition of The New Pornographers's "The Slow Descent into Alcoholism", very appropriate.

Going to see a friend play is always a delicate event. For if it goes poorly, no one wants to feign compliments and enthusiasm, but none of that needed to be employed following the FAC show. All associations aside, it was legitimately a very good rock show, with a killer foose-ball tournament back at Matt's place afterwards.

Bravo, Frenchies!

"I don't need no instructions to know how to Rock!"

2005-07-25T23:15:00.000-07:00

Speaking of which, Matt's band, French Athletic Club, is playing their first and last show this Friday night at the BlackThorn Tavern on Irving between 9th and 10th.

I've seen first hand his focus on rocking this week and it's gotten me rather scared. I fully expect to get totally rocked out. In fact, I bet he comes out and rocks harder than I even thought possible to rock. He's assured me they have their rockin boots on and will rock the roof off that mutha.

So don't miss it! Don't be reading about it the next day in the papers and lament that you missed French Athletic Club's inaugural/reunion/farewell show all in one night.

Favorite Recent Quote...

2005-07-09T00:14:00.000-07:00

Not to harp on a certain post-punk band from Minnesota, but according to Spin magazine's article of the 100 Best albums of the past 20 years, Hüsker Dü's New Day Rising came in at #13. Along with the standard synopsis, Spin recounted how the band brought their previous album, Zen Arcade, to Henry Rollins's punk label SST.

In drummer Grant Hart's words, "Rollins was walking around in shorts, squeezing pool balls -being a big Frankenstein. We were thrilled with the record but he was all, 'This is a collective, you gotta get off your high horse.'" What makes this scene so perfect is knowing how perfectly Henry played the meat-head record producer, flexing the muscles on the side of his jaw with dissatisfaction.

Summing up their relationship with SST records, Hart said,
"Compared to the other punk bands, we felt like the student teachers in a class full of retards."

Oh snap!

And if anyone is still unclear about earlier assertions, this should help:
Hüsker Dü

Yo Canada!

2005-07-07T21:36:00.000-07:00

Well, now I can say I've been kicked out of a bar in French!

Here's a Montreal picture report, which I know Freitas loves:

First, the view from the hotel-

Here's Matt messing with locals:
Olympic Stadium (or the House that Javier Vasquez didn't build):
Matt's Vlad Guerrero impression:
Here's how disinterested I can look going up the Olympic Tower:
Here's the view on the way up the Olympic Tower:
Finally, here's some of the great modern architecure people told me about:
Here's a list of things I didn't manage to photograph:

Patti LaBelle having a breakdown on stage after hearing Luther Vandross had died.
The Canadian John Mayer, Ron Sexsmith. -That's not a stage name, either. I wanted to buy a T-Shirt that said, "I got Sexsmithed at the Montreal Jazz Fest", but they wasn't a merch table!
The hotel plant that made it's way into our room, just "to party with the Americans."
Fine FauxFrench Cuisine.
The Underground City.
Smoked Meat Sandwiches.
The weak, government regulated mixed drinks. Sure, you have universal health care, but at what price?!
The bush-league Montreal casino that I managed to fleece to the tune of $170 Canadian (= Cab fare back to the hotel).
Old Montreal, with all its age-old tourist traps.
2 full blocks of Montreal Chinatown.

All in all, the trip was great, but I knew deep down there was a catch. On the way back, our connecting flight out to Toronto was delayed, causing us to miss our connection to SF, the last flight to SF of the night. We ended up flying to Vancouver, sleeping in the airport, and taking the first flight to SF at 7AM Tuesday morning.

-Meaning I went straight from SFO to work after "sleeping" in an airport. Looking back, a small (but miserable) price to pay for such a fine weekend.

Quickly...

2005-07-01T07:57:00.000-07:00

I'm heading off to Montreal this morning. It's a bit of a strange story, my buddy Matt entered some contest on-line with the SF Weekly and won a trip to the Montreal Jazz Festival. Since he and his girlfriend recently split, he asked me to go with. Outrageous Fortune indeed!

Thing is, we have a bunch of tickets to the Jazz Festival (which I'm told is one of the leading Jazz festivals in the world), but neither of us really like Jazz. We actually looked into selling our tickets to someone who will appreciate it and this year's big draw, Mark Knopfler, is fetching $160 Canadian on-line. What the hell? -He probably won't even play "The Sultans of Swing", too!

So here's the plan: dump the tickets and head to the comedy clubs and small music venues. We're told there's a casino there, but it's all Monte Carlo, so they expect you to dress up and play Baccarat. I'll just see how much discounted Montreal Expos merchandise I can stuff into my bags and sell to sports collectors back in the states.

See ya next week!

Correction...

2005-06-27T23:33:00.000-07:00

No, not about the sexual preferences of Husker Du.

In my last entry, I casually mentioned X2 possibly being the best superhero film ever. What a difference 2 days can make!

'Just saw Batman Begins, and it's amazing. It miffs me that I've heard people debate whether it's the best Batman yet. It has to be. -Has to be!

Clearly, it's the most well thought-out superhero film ever. And while current Christian Bale man-crush is still intact, the real star is director Christopher Nolan. It takes true leadership to walk into a franchise and take it in a new, much better direction, instead of just re-hashing out the same old stock.

For example:

He transformed the previous Gotham from archetypical Tim Burton playhouse into the gritty urban decay we all knew it should have been.
He took out the curvaceous Corvette-stylings of the Batmobile and turned it into a high tech tank that we truly believe could take all that punishment.
He had the gall to actually develop Batman's psychological state.
He extracted most of the cartoony lines and characters.
He made it a priority that we believe what we were seeing, not allowing the luxury of knowing "it'll all work out in the end".
Hell, he even removed the nipples from the previous Batsuit! (Although, you don't need to be a visionary to realize that was ridiculous.)

I hope George Lucas walks out of that movie and says, "Wow. Maybe I shouldn't have killed off Liam Neeson in half of a bad movie."

Greatest Joke of All Time Nominee #4 & #5

2005-06-25T13:16:00.000-07:00

In accordance with Gay Pride Weekend here (which is always amazing to watch), here's a couple of jokes of the season:

Eugene Mirman, from The Absurd Nightclub Comedy Of Eugene Mirman

I saw recently, Teen Wolf. My favorite thing in Teen Wolf is there's a point where Michael J. Fox is going to tell his super-fashionable friend, Styles, that he's a wolf.

They're in Michael J. Fox's garage, and right before he tells him Styles goes, "Dude, you're not going to tell me you're a fag?"

And, of course, Michael J. Fox goes, "No, no, no, don't worry. I'm a wolf! I'm a magical creature that eats babies! I'm not gay! -You can relax, it's cool."

Louis CK, from Louis CK, Live in Houston

You know what's funny to me? -That people get angry that there are gay people they don't even know. Some people get so angry, like somehow, that someone's gay, like -thousands of miles away, fucks them up.

I could understand it if two guys are blowing each other on your lawn, where you're trying to cut. "Arrgh! I'm trying to cut there! Someone has to stop these gay people! This behavior... it's not right!"

Here are a few more gay-pride suggestions:

Check out ma bro, and blogger extraordinaire, Scamboogah's take.
Watch X2, possibly the best super-hero movie ever, and notice the thinly veiled parallel that openly gay director Bryan Singer draws between being a mutant and being gay (especially when Iceman "comes out" to his family).
In addition to the X-Men movies, watch any of the Lord of the Rings films and admit that the coolest actor in the world, Ian McKellen, is a raging queen.
Break out one of the best post-punk bands of the late 80's, Husker Du, and remind yourself that all that great influential alt-rock was created by 3 gay men from Minnesota.
Reflect on all the times you were at a sporting event and watched the whole crowd whipped into a frenzy by the gay voice of Freddy Mercury and Queen's "We Are the Champions".

Basquiat Moment...

2005-06-16T23:24:00.000-07:00

Ever see the movie Basquiat? Everyone told me it was horrible, but I completely disagree. Maybe I liked it because I had no fore-knowledge of Basquiat to have offended or compare to, but still, I highly recommend it.

Well, there's a scene in the movie where one morning Basquiat is coming out of a drug induced haze, it appears his whole life is coming apart at the seams and he suddenly sees something that cheers him up: Duckman. I remember duckman from living in New York in '89-90, he was a guy who pushed a shopping cart exploding with stuffed duck toys. He spent his days dancing on the streets of New York, selling ducks and generally cheering people up.

I had a very similar experience the other day. Except this is what I saw:

So, embrace your own community's most beloved mentally ill citizen!

Top of your Netflix lists, people!

2005-06-13T23:09:00.000-07:00

A study in pacing.

Pacing in the movies is one of those things that, when done right, you never think about. It's kinda like trying to strangle someone, but not letting them realize it. Hitchcock knew this, and it's the common thread in all great thrillers. Here are two DVD recommendations, both with marvelous pacing:

The Machinist

In the same vein as Memento and Requiem for a Dream, The Machinist is a gritty psychological thriller that clearly outlines what could happen when you combine faulty neuro-wiring and insomnia.

If you've heard about this film at all, you've probably heard of lead actor, Christian Bale 's weight loss. Before anyone goes and sees the muscular version of Bale in the new Batman movie, check out the emaciated, 119 lbs. version in The Machinist. -A spectacle that director Brad Anderson spent many scenes showcasing.

In the "special features" section, Bale explains that the script described his character as "a walking skeleton", and he merely complied. Can you imagine the look on the screenwriter's face when he saw Bale on the set for the first time? When asked how he dropped so much weight, his answer was simple, "'Stopped eating." According to IMDb, he lost the 63 lbs. on a diet of salads, apples, chewed gum, smoked cigarettes, and nonfat lattes. As unimaginable and dangerous as that sounds, visually, it's stunning.

What the film lacks by Hitchcock over-influence, like its overly-dramatic music score, it clearly makes up for in the performances and the visuals. Someone once told me that Scorsese's Raging Bull was a visual masterpiece because you can stop the it at any scene and appreciate the rich composition of the frame, as if it were photograph (cue Def Leppard music right... now!). The Machinist is the same way. In a very Fincher-esque way, the characters blend in with the gritty environment, beautifully composed while always seeming natural. -I would assume, incredibly difficult to achieve.

[A little aside here, on current man-crush recipient, Christian Bale. I don't have incredibly high hopes for his new movie, but here's a few things that have got me interested in Batman Begins: -directed by Christopher Nolan of Memento fame (after first, Requiem for a Dream director Darren Aronofsky and then David Fincher pulled out), -the cast includes Liam Neeson, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Rutger Hauer and Tom Wilkinson, -Nolan made the crew watch Blade Runner for inspiration, and -making their feature film acting debuts - former lead singer of the band James, Tim Booth, and former coked-up baseball star, Dwight Gooden (we should all win prizes if we actually recognize them). All that just might make me forget that douchebag scientologist, Tom Cruise, jumping on Oprah's couch whenever Katie Holmes is on screen.]

Very minor spoiler alert: Also, to any Total Recall geeks out there who just can't get enough of watching Michael Ironside get his arms amputated, let me just say, you will not be disappointed by The Machinist.

Primer

If you don't know anything about this movie, try watching it without reading the synopsis on the case. No big deal if you do, but I was just wondering if I would have liked it even more if I didn't already know the specifics of the plot. It's nothing that isn't revealed 20 minutes in, but I think it might be even more thrilling if you didn't already expect the revelation.

Much like The Machinist, Primer is beautifully paced. It amazes me that a genre like the scientific thriller, which is usually dominated by big-budgets and special effects, can be done so superiorly on a small budget by a first-time director (Shane Carruth, who's definitely got "the goods", as they say).

Without talking about the subject-matter, I'll note that it won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival last year, if you're down with that.

So before this summer's block-busters come out, check out these two small-potatoes films. Then just sit back and try to figure out just what those huge Hollywood budgets were actually spent on.

For a further, relatively outdated, look into my cinema psyche, check out this ancient link on YMDb:
http://www.ymdb.com/user_top20_view.asp?usersid=8203

Memorial Day Weekend

2005-05-30T22:36:00.000-07:00

Currently, Three Day Weekends are still not an exact science, but here's my latest experiment.

First off, no better way to start a long weekend than like this:

That's what the Critical Mass bike ride looked like behind me, going down Van Ness. If you look closely, you'll see Eric in the bright yellow/green jacket.

Saturday afternoon was amazing because B.A. invited a bunch of us down to his parent's place in Palo Alto to sit by the pool. The view was amazing, the place was lavish, and the Sox beat the Yankees 17-1. Here's how everything started:

This was quite possibly the most complete Memorial Day BBQ. There was swimming, good friends, wiffleball, and food. But I still managed to screw things up.

This is how it happened: All the youthful stimulus led me to start diving wildly into the pool, just as I did when I was a kid. A slight miscalculation, and a lot of poor judgment, led me to try one of my favorite dives, the sailor's dive, which means you enter the water head first, with your arms by your side. It's a beautiful dive, but I neglected to factor in the sloping of the pool floor and shortly after entering the water, my nose made contact with the bottom of the pool.

I would like to point out here that I did not dive into the shallow end, which usually is the subject of all those diving/paralysis stories. I dove in the deep end, just in the wrong side of it. Luckily, it was just a scratch along the bridge of my nose. In fact, I'm very happy with the way it all turned out. Considering that I could have broken my nose, or neck, or had further damage to my face, I'm completely at ease with how it ended up. As Charly joked, "There goes your modeling career!"

The most pain I had to endure was sitting beside the pool with ice on my nose, explaining with embarrassment how this 35 year old hurt himself trying to do something he should have grown out of decades ago. It looked a lot like this:

Even though that doesn't look that bad, this is what it looked like when I woke up the next morning:

And the answer to your question is "No, I wasn't drunk," although I quickly remedied that after my injury. Now I have to explain myself to people at the new job tomorrow. Regardless of the truth, it does look like I got into a fist-fight, which isn't the impression you want to give new co-workers.

So I stayed in on "Second Saturday", as Kari calls 3-Day weekend Sundays, and went to Dolores park today. After that, the roomies and I met with Jim, Doug and Cathy for drinks. As we were walking out of the apartment, we noticed this figure in the skylight of the stairwell:

Further examination revealed it to be my alley cat extraordinaire, Ruby, who now routinely patrols the basement and roof, regulating both mouse and pigeon populations. When he's not on the job, he's taken to lounging in the skylight, plotting his next move:

Although he won't come to me, the times I do see him, he appears quite happy in his new outdoor surroundings.

Occupational Update.

2005-05-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

As mentioned before, I've gone to work for the internet division of Banana Republic. (I'll pause now so you can insert you own, unique "Banana Republican" joke here.)

While I'm still getting to know the office and job, I will say the building and location are great. It's a 3-year old, 14 story building, right where Folsom and Embarcadero meet, easily accessible by bicycle. Specifically:

The view from the front door looks like this:

And the 7th floor patio view, right outside the cafeteria, looks like this:

So, visually, the new job isn't bad. Further updates to come.

Last Weekend

2005-05-29T22:12:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was Vegas. Ever wonder what it would be like to drive to Vegas from San Francisco? Well, as Eric and I can attest, it's a lot like this for 9 hours:

Soon after my arrival, I promptly lost the directions to Lisa's place, effectively stranding me until she and Eric got back from dinner. Well, not to brag (because I already have to everyone I could), but after losing the directions, going only on recall from being there once before, I managed to chose wisely and find her palatial Green Valley Ranch mansion.

After much reflection, I concluded the only scientific explanation for this success is that I used The Force. As I sat outside the house in question and looked at the key she gave me, I thought, "Just go up and ring the doorbell. If no one answers, try the key." That's a sound strategy, right?

No answer on the bell. So I as I slipped the key into the door I thought, "Wait a minute, this is how pizza delivery guys get shot in New Orleans!" Lucky for me, it was the right house.

And what a house! One of the things I always assumed I would hate about Vegas is the commodified housing, or as many have said, "All the houses look the same." Conversely, the dimensions of Lisa's place are anything but standard, as are the dimensions of Jessica's condo. So not everything I assumed is true.

In Lisa's place there's a beautiful, two story room that, despite my urging to turn into a half-court basketball room, she's populated with a red pool table. Still a work in progress, here's a shot of her and Jessica trying to decide upon a one-and-a-half seat sofa:

Anyway, I had a great time downloading the short films of Eugene Mirman (brillaint!) on her computer while she was at work and I was waiting for the sun to set.

Also, in addition to Lisa and Jessica, seeing Karen, Shilpa, Ned, Kurlander, Brett, Matt, Nick, Andy, Aki, Tommy, Jackie, Jen, Catie and everyone else I miss so much from Zappos was definitely worth every minute of driving.

My last day there the temperature got to 104! Thank the Lord Buddha for Eileen's offer to go swimming at her swanky place, complete with swimming pool.

See how happy a pool in Vegas can make you:

Star Wars merchandising update.

2005-05-29T14:34:00.001-07:00

Nothing says pure evil like an M&M Sith Lord.

If Jedis stuffed their faces with corn syrup and sugar for breakfast, you can be sure these are the spoons they would use-

On the Road Again...

2005-05-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

This weekend I'm in Vegas, my last unofficial dance with unemployment. That's right, the good people at Wells Fargo Banking Services kindly suggested it was time to "sell-out to the man", or in my case "the woman". Therefore I accepted a job with the internet division of Banana Republic. I'll basically be doing the same thing I did at Zappos, but for a substantially larger corporate entity.

I say selling out to "the woman" because my department is a self-described "hen house", meaning there are 4 guys and about 50 women working there. That's quite a change from Zappos. I will, however, be scouring the office for anyone checking sports scores in their free time. One of the many lovable characteristics about Zappos was the high incident of sports fans over there, making socializing for me very easy. I'm sure the Banana Republicans have their own shared interests, but after 2 days I'm still trying to figure them out.

Oh, unemployment! I hardly knew ya!

So I came out to Vegas to see all my transplanted Zappos friends and to give unemployment it's proper send-off. So far, it's been very fun. Personally, as everyone knows, I would have a very difficult time adjusting to Vegas, but seeing all the familiar faces here makes everything much easier. People here have mentioned that all socializing revolves around fellow Zappos employees, but I think that's great. I can't imagine moving here and not knowing anyone. Besides, not wanting to do too much research on the matter, Zappos employees are clearly the best collection of Vegas citizens.

A friend said to me yesterday as we stood outside in the heat, "You came on the worst day, it's the end of doing anything outside during the day." I thought he was exaggerating until I went out today for a coffee. I know this is a desert, and I know I should have anticipated this, but the sun here is so overwhelmingly powerful, it amazes me. It's so oppressive, it feels almost fluid. After 10 minutes of driving around, I realized that parasols are not just ostentatious fashion accessories.

Therefore, my best laid plans of enjoying Vegas by day have been thwarted by the sun. Conversely, what makes the days so unbearable here, also make the nights so wonderful. One thing we definitely don't have in SF are those warm, comfortable T-Shirt nights. If I lived here, I'd be even more of a night owl than I already am.

So aside from blogging, what's there to do during the day in Vegas? Movies! I did it, I broke down, braved the geek multitudes and saw the new Star Wars film. Not to hang myself, but this means I've seen all of the last 3 Star Wars installments on opening day. What a dork!

So here it is: the first hour has horrible moments of stumbling character development, much like those painful love scenes in Attack of the Clones, but the second hour is really, really good. A long standing criticism I have of the entire franchise is the way Lucas injects terribly unfunny punch-lines into the action (usually delivered by annoying droids). That still exists here, but it appears he tried to limit those to the first half of the movie. For that, I'm very grateful.

Without revealing anything too shocking, the inevitable attack by the Sith on the Jedi masters could be the greatest moment in all the Star Wars movies. Also, watching Anikan's descent into evil displays an inner complexity that Lucas always seemed so disinterested in. Once again, the dialogue is clumsy and the effects dominate everything, but unlike its predecessors, the dark storyline filled with death and tragedy, elevate it well beyond a mere merchandising promotion to sell toys. In fact, this could very well be the second best installment, after Empire. Hopefully, it makes enough money so George Lucas can have that goiter removed from his neck.

One last thing, and I'm not giving anything away here, but at the very end of the film Lucas throws in a a casual plot point. Whaddup wit dat? I saw that 60 Minutes interview where he profusely said this was the last movie, no doubt. But, there's a very tangible untied string at the end of this movie that will fuel much geek speculation about possible future movies. Indeed, Eric already pointed out that Lucas made the same "no more Star Wars movies" proclamation after Return of the Jedi. Am I missing something that explains why he threw that in? If anyone who's seen the movie wants to explain to me what that was about, please feel free.

Like it or not Cinema Psychology #1.

2005-05-10T00:46:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to make note of characters in movies who I secretly relate to, for better or worse. Hopefully, I won't have to invoke my 5th Amendment right against Self-Incrimination, but no promises.

#1. Nurse Betty, played by Renée Zellweger. While this seemed like a clever narrative device, which I'm sure wow!ed studio executives for its creativity, I found the character eerily plausible on a personal level. Due to post-traumatic stress, or Level 5 denial, Nurse Betty becomes so withdrawn that she subconsciously decides to only believe in the world of her favorite Soap Opera. It's a wonderfully sweet and sad film, thick with a compassion that director, and renowned misanthrope, Neil LaBute was not supposed to possess.

If I ever have a nervous breakdown, it wouldn't surprise me if my only means of communication was to quote Simpson episodes, movies I like, and comedy routines. -Like a pop-culture Rain Man, who feels more comfortable with media constructs than his own self. Some would argue this has already begun.

Really, what's the difference if a mental injury leaves you repeatedly chanting "Coffee's For Closers Only", rather than "Gotta Watch Wapner"?

So, if I convince myself that I'm in love with Greg Kinnear, consider this a living will and shoot me.

Things that give me joy, #1284

2005-05-02T14:40:00.000-07:00

Frank Zappa, specifically Joe's Garage, Sheik Yerbouti, Apostrophe, and Overnight Sensation. I can't listen to this stuff constantly, but every few years I pull out the CD's and just giggle myself into oblivion.

If you like anything about Spinal Tap, you'll love Frank. Not the jam-sessions, but the goofy songs, the ones you know he did solely to test the limits of free speech. Frank was a master of pop music who liked nothing more than to parody it. After a few listens, it's clear he could have had a prosperous pop career, but he chose to write about having sex with bread loafs, poop-shoots, transvestite castration, eating yellow snow, Jewish Princesses & Catholic Girls.

One of my favorite memories of Frank is seeing him testify before the Congressional Hearing on Music Obscenity in the late 80's. He testified side-by-side with John Denver and Dee Snider of Twisted Sister (who would have thought Dee would out-live the other two?). I always thought, while Denver and Snider were testifying for idealistic reasons, Frank did it so his body of work wouldn't be declared illegal and thrown in a vault somewhere.

By far, my favorite Zappa CD is Joe's Garage. It's a double CD that tell the story of an all-American boy from Canoga Park California who forms a band, goes on tour, catches gonorrhea from a fembot tour groupie, has a sexual affair with a gay German kitchen appliance, gets imprisoned by the state for practicing music (which has been outlawed), and finally goes insane, listening to illegal music in his head. -Take that Walt Disney!

Sadly, Frank died Dec. 4th, 1993 of prostate cancer. Here's a couple of statues in Europe of him, where he's considered a demigod...

4 Weeks Down...

2005-04-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

...less than 7 hours to go. In the words of Willie Nelson, "Whisky River, take my mind."

Greatest Joke of All Time Nominee #3

2005-04-27T19:38:00.000-07:00

This is a recent one, they don't have to be old to be classics. Like the last nominee, it's a joke that causes you to laugh and nod your head because it's true.

Here we go:

On the Simpsons a few weeks ago, Bart decides to start his own T-Shirt business (which, btw seems to be the thing to do nowadays, check out Garth's new line of T-Shirts: Piximix).
Anyway, Bart goes to a T-Shirt convention only to have his booth crushed by Krusty's mega-booth next to him. Krusty then appears on a wall of television screens and he says, "Krusty Show T-Shirts are made for kids, by kids! And we pass the slavings (wink) on to you!"

For a further look into slave-wage clothing lines, including Kathy Lee Gifford's line of children's clothing, rent the brilliant new documentary, The Corporation. Not funny, but incredibly eye-opening. Pair it up with The Yes Men and start your own personal anti-globalization movement.

Media Hangover...

2005-04-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to King Hoopty (Doug) for the link:

Infomania Abuse

Man, I stayed up last night blogging and watching Headline News, and boy am I hung over! Look at the picture I drew while watching the NFL Draft preview, high on information last night:

I may have to go to rehab.

Cold Blooded!

2005-04-21T11:05:00.000-07:00

Even John Freitas admitted this is screwed up:

Vermont Shop Class

Read the last paragraph to learn this kid's motivation.

'Round Town Blogging

2005-04-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

When you've been sober for two weeks, strange ideas start to creep into your head like, "Maybe I'll go on a bike ride." Here's what happens when someone's been so malnurished:

SBC Park.

Past the Bay Bridge.

Alcatraz.

Fort Mason.

The Marina and Chrissy Field

Fort Point, under the Golden Gate.

Over the bridge and back.

Through the Presidio.

Back to the Mission.

The Worst Music in the World.

2005-04-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

Thanks (I think) to Sean for the link. I dare you to sit through this steaming pile of shit:

Pure Suffering.

Move over, Christian Rock! There's a new contender for "Shittiest Music Genre", Patriotism Rock. Please note the use of religious iconography, like angels, but from a jingoist perspective. Obviously, god is on our side, not on the side of those religious, nutball terrorists.

You cannot escape your marketing destiny!

2005-04-08T15:52:00.002-07:00

As rumored, here are some photos of Star Wars marketing in action. I think you'll all agree, Mr. Lucas doesn't lend his work to just anyone, only those who's checks clear.

These are all-right, but I have a feeling it's the calm before the marketing storm, or as Dave Attell says, "That type of quiet right before a hooker pisses on you." As we get closer to opening day, I'm sure things will pick up and the marketing choices will get even funnier.

Some advice, though, if you head to the market to gather photos, as I did, make sure your Ipod is fully charged. Mine konked out halfway through the store, making this endeavor infinitely more pathetic. It's definitely fun when jamming out to Death From Above 1979, not so much to supermarket muzak.

Here ya go:

Going to see Revenge of the Sith is a lot like playing the lottery, in that you lose a lot.

A very confused Wookie.

The Powers of an ancient Jedi.

Droids love Cheese!

Mark Hamill? Ewoks? Check the expiration date.

Unlike CalTrains Operators...

2005-04-01T12:21:00.002-08:00

...no exaggeration. This is the Bay Meadows "train station":

"Have a good day in San Mateo, sir!"

For more Beer and Loathing in San Mateo chonicles, check out Drew's blog entry here:
Scamboogah

Urban Dictionary Entry #1

2005-03-26T21:48:00.001-08:00

The Klocek Syndrome
Function: noun
1. To place undue blame on others.
2. When a comedian blames a former audience for not getting a joke due to unsophistication, when actually it wasn't funny in the first place.
Etymology: Joe Klocek, a bitter, unfunny San Francisco comic (circa 2004)
"to Klocek" verb
"Don't try to Klocek this off on someone else, it was your screw-up."

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2005-03-16T23:02:00.000-08:00

Think of me fondly today, watching all the NCAA basketball games at various bars, drinking green beer, all starting at 9 in the morning.

Here's some inspiration from the Onion:

The Winston Zeddemore Effect.

2005-03-14T22:12:00.000-08:00

What would you do if you had just prevented the end of the world by defeating supernatural creatures trying to enter our dimension? What if you were also covered from head to toe with marshmallows because you had just destroyed a 20 story marshmallow man? Remember what Winston Zeddemore did? He raised his hands high and screamed, "I love this town!" It only makes sense:

Even though he was talking about New York City and I live in San Francisco, I too, know that very Winston Zeddemore Effect.

Sometimes the feeling is slight, like the weather, or how the neighborhood is always full of energy, or watching small dogs try to hump the legs of large dogs at Dolores Park, or having a burrito, or just common people watching. Sometimes it's grand, like the scenery, riding Critical Mass, watching the fog roll in, driving over the bridge, pedaling passed City Hall, etc.

And sometimes it's huge. Like today, when a California court decision came down declaring Gay Marriage unconstitutional. Even though I'm not of that community (vicious rumors, I tell ya!), the public display of enthusiasm and happiness they had with the ruling puts a smile on my face. I can't help but quietly whisper, "I love this town." Gay Marriage for some, tiny American flags for others!

Or when the first bombs dropped on Iraq, and the entire city was shut down due to protesting. I quietly thought to myself while walking passed people fighting in the streets, "How horrible would it be to live somewhere that had no reaction? -Business as usual." I watched hundreds of protesters get arrested that day and was happy to read the courts dropped all the charges. Zeddemore!

Also, when I meet geeky hipsters who have found their way here from all over, like they've found the Land of Misfit Toys, I smile like Zeddemore.

If I was a hippy, or a new-ager, or a full-of-shit psychic, or a theoretical physicist (all of which are plentiful here), I might even say the city vibrates a frequency that agrees with me. Then again, there's a lot of vibrating going on here, most of which I don't want to investigate.

So, even though this report has nothing to do with the things I cite above, it was no surprise that SF was chosen by a global survey to have the highest quality of living in the US (we actually tied with Honolulu, but let's no mention that).

All this without having to save the world from a possessed Rick Moranis? Zeddemore, I feel ya.

Things that give me joy, #714

2005-03-10T19:02:00.000-08:00

Simpsons Episode 9F14, Duffless.

Solid from beginning to end, the story of Homer getting a DWI after taking the Duff Brewery tour and then having to give up alcohol for a month. I realize this episode always airs right around the end of March, making me feel a lot better about my self-imposed month of sobriety, also known as April.

I recommend this procedure to everyone I know. Besides, who needs April? -It's after the college basketball tournament and before the real NBA playoffs! All that's left after that is meaningless, beginning of the season baseball. Clearly, it's the best month to dry up. While you're at it, hit the gym and get yourself a nice colonic, too!

See Ya in April!

Belated Thank You!

2005-03-09T20:22:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Con & B to the A for all their hospitality a week ago when Laurel and I stayed with them in Utah. I honestly didn't know what to expect, but the scenery and skiing there lived up to all the high expectations I had heard. (And I managed to not convert to Mormon, despite how sickeningly nice they all were!)

First off, I had heard that the skiing in Utah is arguably the best in the country, this didn't phase me, because I've been hearing stuff like this ever since relocating to the West Coast. Everyone out West says the skiing back East is terrible, everyone in Utah says the skiing in the Sierras is weak (and a little aside, everyone in British Columbia says the skiing in Utah is weak compared to Whistler). I hate to fall prey to conventional wisdom, but they're all right (except the Whistler thing, which I haven't checked out.)

I had such a good two days skiing at Snow Basin (site of 4 Olympic events including the Super-G, which I still don't know what that is), I can honestly see why people schedule their lives around that activity. Indeed, we overheard a doctor on the gondola (pronounced "gon-DOE-la") mention that he only likes to practice 3 days a week so he can get out on the slopes the rest of the time. Fear not, I've not yet accepted Warren Miller as my Lord and Savior, but I understand that, once you reach a level of competence and ability, and are no longer afraid of Sonny Bono-ing yourself into the trees, skiing becomes one of the most thrilling and enjoyable activities in the world.

Laurel and I thank you for all your hospitality and company.

Here's a peak into what it was like:

Con, in her natural state:

Salty dogs in Park City:

Greatest Joke of All Time Nominee #2

2005-03-09T09:38:00.000-08:00

I feel compelled to point out before I open the envelope that the comedian here, Dennis Miller, now sucks. For all his supposed "insight", he was the poster-boy for post 9/11 fear, immediately jumping ship over to the right because he thought the Democrats didn't provide him with enough protection from the terrorists. -Like his run-down Topanga Canyon home is at the top of any terrorist lists! That douchebag couldn't get his name on a fucking cheap Star-Map, forget international target list. Dennis, if you're out there, you're no Russell Crowe! Actually, Dennis Miller sucks so much now, I seriously doubt he wrote this joke, which was always my favorite from The Off-White Album. That album is still great, but I suspect a collection of very good writers contributed to it for nominal pay. Old roommie, John Fetus, once said about George Carlin, "We're going to have a tough time convincing the next generation he was ever actually funny, but he was." I feel the same way about Dennis Miller, RIP.

So here it is (referring to the dancework of Deney Terrio replacement, Adrian Zmed, on the culturally significant Dance Fever television show):

"I haven't seen choreography that stiff since the Lee Harvey Oswald prison transfer!"

Didja like that one, Cha-Cha (smirk-smirk)?

NewsFlash out of Hollywood!

2005-03-08T19:17:00.000-08:00

First there was the horrible violation of Paris Hilton's mobile phone, then supposedly the same techno-terrorists hacked and posted a sex tape of Fred Durst, now it turns out that even tough-guy Russell Crowe was a terror target:
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,12475653-26618,00.html

And finally, there appears to be no end to the indignity that a modern celebrity has to endure:

SPEARS AND FEDERLINE THROWN OUT OF RESTAURANTS OVER DOG
Pop beauty Britney Spears and husband Kevin Federline were thrown out of two exclusive Beverly Hills, Calif., restaurants Monday, because they refused to leave their beloved Chihuahua outside.
The singer and Federline were asked to leave Euro-Asian eatery Crustacean, because her pet pooch Bit Bit's presence would have broken health and safety regulations.
The couple then headed to the Trattoria Amici Restaurant, but left red-faced after a waiter explained dogs are not permitted in the plush establishment.
But fortunately, the Trattoria Amici Restaurant's manager had a change of heart and chased the pair down the road to offer them a table, on the condition that Spears hid Bit Bit in her purse.

Oh, the horror!

Birthdays!

2005-02-28T10:04:00.000-08:00

Wow, can anyone believe that two of the world's most dangerous people, John Freitas and Sean Farrelly were born on the same day? Today, even! So Happy Birthday guys! I was so sure you guys would be ushering in the reign of the Anti-Christ by now, but I'm sure you'll get around to it when ya can. Have fun today!

Heaven Needs More Rap-Metal.

2005-02-23T11:55:00.000-08:00

With all the gloom that the death of Hunter S. Thompson has cast over the last week, it's good to see a ray of laughter filtering through.

Korn or Jesus?

Andrew always said that proof that God doesn't exist is that Christian Rock sucks so much, we'll see if that continues. Actually, I knew that band sucked without the help of this latest development. First Dimebag Darrell, now this. How will we ever cope?

Life Lesson #1: LIE!

2005-02-16T14:48:00.000-08:00

For anyone who finds themselves unemployed and looking for decent health coverage, here's the first and last rule about the application process:

Lie, Lie, Lie!!!

-And don't feel bad about it! I made the mistake of filling out my Blue Cross application truthfully and included that I took a common drug for anxiety within the last year and they denied my application, saying I was too much of a risk for such comprehensive coverage. I should point out this drug is the same prescribed to help people stop smoking. It's so common, as a society, we're probably only a few months away from having it fortified into our cereal.

After telling this story to Laurel, who's father is a doctor, I was informed it's common practice to apply for insurance like you've never had a problem in you life and then act like any condition you have just sprung up. So there it is, people. When applying for insurance, just keep in mind the company is looking for a way to screw you, don't give them the opportunity.

Sports Babble.

2005-02-14T20:30:00.000-08:00

ESPN College basketball expert, Jay Bilas, last week was trying to make the point that the Santa Clara win over North Carolina at the beginning of the season was a fluke. He joked, "Hands up, all those who think Santa Clara's better than North Carolina."

In the interest of global harmony, let me introduce Jay to one of those people:

That's Matt, and not only is he a Santa Clara grad and unrepentant Steve Nash fan, but he also does the greatest impression of Warriors television analyst, Jim Barnett. Writing about a dead-on impression would seem useless, but this impression has absolutely nothing to do with the audio quality of the voice. It goes like this:

"A couple of stops and a couple of 3's, and the Warriors are right back in this!"

In the words of Fat Tony, "It's funny, because it's true."

'Roid Rage (Steroids, not Hemorrhoids)

2005-02-13T21:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, the steroid situation is almost impossible not to comment on, especially with Jose Canseco's book, Juice, coming out on Monday and his "60 Minutes" interview tonight. So here goes.

It's too bad that Jose is such an unscrupulous opportunist and a shameless ego maniac, because that gives all the steroid-deniers out there an easy way to dismiss his allegations. And it's also too bad he has no concept of subtlety because, from what I've read, while many of his stories are completely plausible, it also seems impossible that they're ALL true. He implicates so many people, he makes it seem like, if you played with him and weren't paying attention, he'd shoot you up with steroids too. It wouldn't surprise me if, as Andrew says, in his book he admits to injecting announcer Joe Garagiola at a press conference when he bent over to pick up a pen.

So where does that leave us? We have a book that seems to confirm pretty much what we all suspected about steroid use, but the alleged frequency seems almost impossible to be true. Does anyone really think that Roger Clemens took steroids? If he did, he should get his money back, 'cuz I've seen him plenty fat, but never beefed up. All this, written by an unapologetic self-promoter. It probably would have been better if Canseco didn't write anything at all, and steroid use continued until a more reputable source came forward.

One very disappointing reaction to Canseco's book has proved an earlier perception of mine quite wrong. When faced with die-hard Barry Bonds supporters, they would invariably bring up the inherent racism involved with criticizing Bonds, while Mark McGwire (another obvious, but white, juicer) was spared such scrutiny. I always denied this claim and said if McGwire was still playing he'd also have to answer such allegations. Just this week, though, after Canseco's book implicated McGwire, I was shocked to hear sportswriters not tear into him. Rather, I was disgusted to hear Richard Justice of the Houston Chronicle, when asked about McGwire's steroid use say, "Well, look, a lot of players started taking steroids and it began in '88, '89... that's no secret." What a cop out! I understand not wanting to jump on the shaky Canseco bandwagon, but making excuses for anyone taking steroids is just as terrible for McGwire as it is for Bonds. At the very least, he could qualify any criticism by saying, "If these allegations prove to be true... (then, nail him to the cross)."

Finally, in the book there's a chapter titled "Giambi, the Most Obvious Juicer in the Game". According to Canseco, this observation is evidenced by his bloated physique. He writes, "There was no definition to (Giambi's) body at all. You could see the retention of liquids, especially in the neck and face; to those in the know, that was a sure sign of steroid use." Now, without going back on my earlier call to criticize steroid users, I almost feel bad for Giambi. -Not because he used steroids and seems to be the most egregious case. -Not because he testified to a grand jury that he took steroids and then denied it to the press. -Not because his team, the Yankees, are currently trying to find ways to void the remaining $82 million on his contract. But, he seems to suffer from a condition that most professional athletes have no concept of; he wants people to like him.

Unlike Bonds, unlike McGwire, unlike most players who couldn't care less about the consequences of their actions or how they're perceived by the public, Giambi obviously craves acceptance. Last week he called a press conference and profusely apologized to his team, the organization and the New York fans, but never mentioned for what. -Never mentioned steroids. So, why the press conference? Why apologize and then immediately turn evasive? If he still longs for people to like him, it stands to be a very tedious career for Giambi from here on out. If you crave approval and then have your actions sully your reputation, you can't expect people to go easy on you. All his career, Giambi has been in that "likable hero" roll. He may now have to learn to play the "defiant bad-guy". -Maybe Canseco can give him some pointers.

Still, he's an idiot for testifying to a grand jury that he took steroids and then denying it in television interviews immediately thereafter. What's worse, since he was told his testimony would be sealed, he obviously thought he'd get away with it (until his testimony was suspiciously leaked to the media).

I'd also like to point out teammate Gary Sheffield's testimony was just as incriminating, but no one in the Yankees organization is clamoring to void his multi-million dollar contract. Then again, he had a much better year than Giambi last season.

Why Ad Exects Get Paid So Well.

2005-02-13T14:23:00.000-08:00

Have you seen the new television advertisements for the De Niro film Hide and Seek? They truly are a marketing stroke of genius. The new tag line is that trite, ominous voice saying, "Warning: If you haven't seen Hide and Seek, don't let anyone tell you it's secret!"

Here's the secret: It sucks.

Theatre of the Absurd

2005-02-10T17:28:00.000-08:00

Oh, Sweet Irony! Believe it or not, Rob Schneider last week took out a full page ad in the Hollywood Reporter accusing a film critic of being "unfunny":

Schneider Blasts Critic.

What a strange world we live in.

Greatest Joke of All Time Nominee #1

2005-02-08T23:14:00.000-08:00

Dave Attell

"That was such a great party, I said 'No way, Jose!' to a guy named Jose, his head popped open and candy fell out!"

Sissy-Boy Slap-Fest.

2005-02-07T23:01:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder what the current Hollywood equivalent would be to stealing another man's prostitute in the Old West? Well, here's an account of what happens when one man steals another man's comedy sketch about vaguely the same thing:

http://harpers.org/DontHaveACowMan.html

The only thing missing from this exchange is someone saying, "You'll never write mediocre comedy in this town again!"

Funnier than Fiction.

2005-02-05T13:02:00.000-08:00

From the Unintentional Humor Department, check out this new handbag line my former company just posted: http://www.zappos.com/n/br/b/936.html

Yes, that's not a misprint. The designer's name is the same as everyone's favorite NBA booze-hound, Vin Baker (pictured above - I have no idea what that's about). Not Vincent Baker, not Vince Baker, but exactly Vin Baker. The only thing that would make this stranger would be if the NBA's Vin Baker was the actual designer. After all, guitar legend Carlos Santana has realized a life-long dream to design women's shoes, why not groggy power forwards? Still, they're merely namesakes.

For those who may not know, here's a little background: Vin Baker was an unanticipated NBA force. He played for a small college and then preceded to make the NBA All-Star team 3 years in a row. Soon after that, his game inexplicable declined dramatically. As it turns out, Vin was an alcoholic, and not one of those lucky "functional alcoholics". He was one of those alcoholics you feel compelled to point out how drunk he is. He drifted around from team to team, taking breaks from the game for every uncontrollable binge he fell into. Former Celtics coach Jim O'Brien once reported smelling booze on his breath during practice. That blows my mind. People play softball hammered all the time, but I can't imagine playing basketball, with all the precision and agility it requires, at a professional level even! Wow, is that delusional!

As Burchard noted on the new unfortunately-named handbag line, "Insert your former NBA All-Star turned alcoholic/wash-up joke here." And Bourdet added, "That's the most unintentionally funny thing I've seen since Northwest Airlines re-painted all their planes to read 'NWA'." I, predictably, will go even further. For every style of shoe (in this case, handbag) on Zappos.com, they allow you to write your own review of the product. A little while back, many of us thought this was the last frontier for subversive comedy. Therefore, I invite you to join me in submitting your own review of Vin Baker handbags. Once they get posted, I'll provide links here for everyone to enjoy.

Good Luck.

Rock Star Powers, Activate!!

2005-02-04T19:26:00.000-08:00

I've always been a big proponent of public humiliation, and outside the realm of a spotlighted Karaoke stage, the best way to achieve this is going to a concert that you're WAY too old for. I mean too old like you look like you're there to pick up your daughter, and you're prepared to tell people that if they ask.

My first experience with this was going to an Avalanches show at PopScene a few years ago. When my friend mentioned how old she felt, I denied it and tried to prove her wrong by asking a girl I was recently talking to her age. The answer was a simple, high-pitched "Nineteen!" After that moment, I spent the rest of the night lamenting the many years behind me. The only moment that suspended my gloom was running into the opening DJ, Dan the Automator. I stopped to congratulate him on the great set he just had. When our eyes met, I could see a brief glimmer of happiness and that glimmer said, "Thank god there's someone here as old as me!"

So last Monday, thanks to Mac's good-nature, I was treated to the Winterfresh SnoCore Tour at the Fillmore. AND, Mac got us VIP passes to go back-stage to meet the only band on the bill I had heard of, speed-metal forefathers, Helmet. As we were being taken back to meet the band, I warned Mac that I was going to look as excited as I possibly can, but I only had one of their CD's. Luckily, no acting was necessary. For when I walked into that room and shook hands with lead guitarist/vocalist Page Hamilton, I saw it again. That brief glimmer and crooked smile that comes along with the "Hey, you're as old as I am!" look.

And ya know what? He was a really nice, very polite, seemingly subdued guy. Maybe expecting to see dead hookers dipped in cocaine and violent midget knife-fights is too much of a rock 'n roll stereotype, but man was that guy cool! I kept thinking, "Well, I guess we all have to mellow out over time." But when they went on stage, they immediately transformed into the wild sociopaths I expected them to be. That's when I realized, when you reach a certain level of success, it's all a job. Those guys wrapped up our conversation, thanked us for coming back to meet them, and then gave the crowd exactly what they came there to see; loud, pulsating, ear-drum blowing speed metal. Good job, guys.

As for the rest of the show, if not liking bad bands like Chevelle makes me out of touch, then I'm ready to take my rightful place in a nursing home. Still, it's nice to get out there and watch a bunch of kids have a good time.

I'd finally like to relay my roommate's reaction when I told him I was going to the Helmet show. He just smiled and said, "Oooo! You've got dirty little secrets!"

Movie Time!

2005-01-30T23:52:00.000-08:00

Okay, here we go...

Academy Award Nominations came out last week and the only thing that excited me was the omission of The Passion of (what the) Christ. So the bulk of my satisfaction was for something that didn't happen, rather than did. Looking at the list, I can't help but think what a weak year for movies it had to have been.

Although I've only seen two of the films up for best picture (Million Dollar Baby & Sideways), it seems there would be very safe and conventional rationales behind all the nominees. Both Million Dollar Baby and The Aviator are by award-heavyweights Clint Eastwood and Martin Scorsese, so they're in. Ray qualifies by being a bio-pic of a recently deceased American icon. Sideways is one of those movies that's gotten so much critical praise, the academy would appear as vastly out of touch as they actually are by not nominating it, so that's a go (besides, it was a great film). And (I may be completely wrong here, and I'll apologize after seeing it if I am) Finding Neverland looks like one of those feel-good, "Let's all remember Frank Capra (and forget his movies sucked)" films, à la Chocolat and The Green Mile, so that's in.

But! this year is completely saved from the damnation fires of mediocrity hell by the sole inclusion of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. That film is one of the most poignant, accurate, creative, and flawless movies I have ever seen. Even if, after it opened, there was nothing but Frank Darabont films for the rest of the year, its mere inclusion would greatly elevate the year's significance. I've seen it multiple times and I can't find a single blemish. The cast is amazing (and I went into it hating Jim Carrey), the screenplay is both creative and moving, while never feeling clichéd (quite an accomplishment for a romance), and the directing is astonishing.

Every once in a while, a director comes along who celebrates the basic visual medium of film and we're left thinking, "Wow, how come so many directors put out standard bland visuals?" I could go on and on about how ridiculous it is that Michel Gondry wasn't nominated for best director, but I just assume it's a bit too fresh and "newfangled" for many of the aged academy's taste. -The straight-forwardness of Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman competitively grumbling their lines to each other is more their speed.

With that behind us, here's a few more reflections on the nominations:

Good to see Don Cheadle nominated for Hotel Rwanda. On the Daily Show he said he had to wait until Will Smith declined the role because he had first shot at it. Good thing he decided to help Kevin James dance and pick up women (Hitch) rather than tell the story of massive human genocide. Hopefully, Don will win so we're spared, what we all know is inevitable, watching Leonardo DiCaprio walk to the podium to pick up his Best Actor Oscar. When that happens, feel free to join me in a national anxiety attack.
How much would Annette Bening hate Hilary Swank if she loses the Oscar to her again? (Swank in Boy's Don't Cry & Bening in American Beauty in 2000.) Predictably, I'll be pulling for Kate Winslet, merely because her performance was the best and she deserves it.
Jamie Foxx, nominated for both Actor and Supporting Actor will have to win at least one. If the Academy decides Clint Eastwood's acting career is still short of recognition, look for Foxx to take the supporting award. My sentimental favorite would be to see Alan Alda get up there and thank Jamie Farr for all his support.
Virginia Madsen up for an Oscar? You've come a long way from Electric Dreams!
In the "Making up for Missing the Boat" category, Mike Leigh is nominated for best director again. This has happened to Mike two other times as well, Topsy-Turvy, and Secrets and Lies. All these films are vastly inferior to his 1993 masterpiece, Naked (a film that's still yet to be released on DVD!). I like to believe the academy is trying to make up for that gross oversight (it's fun to use your imagination!). -Kinda like the way the art world is still coping with not appreciating Van Gogh until after he died. If it happens though, Mike, don't remind them of their past mishap like Errol Morris did, or you'll never be heard from again!
It would be nice to see Alexander Payne get the award for directing Sideways, but I would still insist Citizen Ruth and Election are his best films. Not his most mature, but his best.
The writing awards are the only ones that really matter, of course. Most likely, Payne will pick up the award for Best Adapted Screenplay, but I would like to see Richard Linklater get it for Before Sunset. Still, that has its own set of problems. For, if Linklater wins, his co-writer Ethan Hawke does as well, and it might be too much to stomach to watch DiCaprio and Ethan Hawke get awards on the same night. Oh, the pain!
As for the Original screenplay award... Setting aside The Aviator and Vera Drake, which I'm still yet to see, how in the world can Eternal Sunshine and Hotel Rwanda be nominated side-by-side with The Incredibles? Let's see, a creative examination into the effects of coping with painful memories, systemic genocide, or a family of superheroes saving the world. What the fuck?! I saw The Incredibles and thought it was completely bland, but I've always been skeptical of films that are promoted as fun "for kids and adults". All that meant in The Incredibles was watching the superhero mother tell her superhero kids to put their superhero seat belts on while they rocket off to save the world. Get it?! Maybe if I had a family that would be hilarious, so I'll just chalk that up to cultural differences. Nice Edith Head reference, though, who the academy loves.
The Passion of (what the) Christ isn't up for adapted screenplay, but that's not politics, it's simply that the original material wasn't that good to begin with.

Prediction: I will hate Leonardo DiCaprio even more after this year's awards.

We all have our weaknesses.

2005-01-27T11:24:00.001-08:00

Quick, what do you think of when I say Siberia?

Well, forget about that. Move over debatably extinct tigers and gulag camps, make room for Siberia's latest claim to fame, the absurdly underrated Andrei Kirilenko.

When I was last in New York, a friend of mine (after a few beers) admitted to having a "man-crush" on Cleveland prodigy, LaBron James. As a basketball fan, this is understandable, but I still managed to think to myself, "Boy, is that screwed up! He's really confused." It wasn't until I found myself on Kirilenko.com did I realize the hypocrisy of my judgments and the extent of my affliction.

For some strange reason, I've grown to love foreign basketball players. Not only do they provide a global character to the game, but the path they've taken to the NBA must have been more difficult than the American players. Many of the Eastern European players came from war-torn former Yugoslavia. In fact, when the fighting began there, some of the pro players stopped talking to each other because of their affiliations (specifically, the late Drazen Petrovic ended his friendship with Vlade Divac because Vlade's a Serb.)

Maybe it's easier for some of the Western European players like Pau Gasol and Tony Parker, since their countries aren't in war turmoil and their professional leagues are stable, but think about the path Manu Ginobili had to take from Argentina, Arvydas Sabonis from Lithuania, Yao Ming from China, Hidayet Turkoglu from Turkey, Dikembe Mutombo from Congo, and Andrei Kirilenko from Siberia, all to become some of the best players in the NBA. It would be the equivalent of playing soccer here and wanting to play for Manchester United (like Tim Howard did).

So, may hat goes off to these guys. Not that it's any easier for American players to make it, but the foreign players don't seem to benefit from hype as much as young American players (I'm looking at you Felipe Lopez and Kwame Brown!).

No Hope for Television.

2005-01-18T21:09:00.000-08:00

I've forgotten who suggested to me that I watch the show "Freaks and Geeks", but whoever it was, you have my gratitude.

Here's a little background: The show only lasted one season (1999), and might be mistaken as another, predictable high school comedy, but it's so much better. In stark contrast to the likes of "Beverly Hills 90210" and "The O.C.", where pouting James Dean flunkies and swimsuit models burden the audience with their dismay over not having more useless shit than the next, this show is believable in look and in situation. Maybe that's why it got cancelled, I can see some obnoxious television producer sitting behind his desk saying, "Freaks? Geeks? These people aren't good-looking enough to be on my network! There's not one person in that cast I'd have sex with!"

Since it's cancellation, the list of actors, writers and directors has become a "Who's Who" of young, talented Hollywood. For instance, directors include Miguel Arteta (The Good Girl) and Jake Kasdan (Orange County). Producer Judd Apatow went on to produce Anchorman with Will Farrell and writer Mike White is better known for penning Chuck and Buck and The Good Girl. Even a minor character actor, Seth Rogen, went on to write for one of the most genius television shows still in production, "Da Ali G Show".

The pilot of the series is the best pilot I've ever watched. Some of the later episodes are mediocre, but only a couple, most are worthy of repeated viewings. The characters are written so well, with such depth and complexity, you'll find yourself immediately connecting with their plights, even if you miss some of the 1980 pop culture references. The acting is superb, but the way the writers weave in tense, uncomfortable situations is its real accomplishment. Unlike any teenage, coming-of-age show I've seen, these characters finally portray high school the way I remember it, painful, confusing, and wonderful. Compared to the overly-stylish work of John Hughes, this show looks like a documentary. -A very funny, honest documentary.

So why is there no hope? Immediately after watching the first episode, I was reminded of something Sean said when the "Andy Richter Controls the Universe" show was cancelled after one season. He said, "If a show that good gets cancelled, there's no hope for television." Now, I don't think Sean had any hope for television in the first place, but his point is still dead-on.

So, I urge you to rent the "Freaks and Geeks" DVDs, and enjoy them. Enjoy them right up until the point where you find yourself shaking your head and saying, "That show gets cancelled?! -But Charlie Sheen and Jim Belushi get to have their horrible shows renewed?!"

Also, the show provides me the giddy pleasure of watching the great Canadian comic Joe Flaherty of SCTV fame chew out his kids as the square father. He's one of those comics (like Fred Willard) who's funniest when he tries to be serious. Here he is as Count Floyd on SCTV:

Genius.

(And the gym teacher is played by Biff, of Back to the Future fame!)

Smilin' Again.

2005-01-17T20:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm not going to gloat about the Patriots pounding the Colts last weekend after all the "experts" picked them to lose. Believe me, reading all the coverage this morning was gratifying enough without gloating.

I would like to point out someone no one factored in before the game, but ended up dictating it once it started. Without talking about his performance yesterday, which was the best game he played all year, let me just point out his season is all about getting a second chance (or third, or fourth...).

Corey Dillon had never made the playoffs with his former team, the Cincinatti Bengals, but on a personal level, he was very successful. He even set the single-game rushing record there, until it was broken the next year by Jamaal Lewis. Ultimately, though, the losing took its toll. In an article on ESPN.com Dillon's wife said she hadn't seen him smile in six years, until he started playing for the Patriots.

Here's a guy who at age 15 was arrested for selling crack cocaine in his hometown of Seattle. He had a rocky college career, once even accusing his former University of Washington coaches of bad-mouthing him to pro scouts. In Cincinatti, he was branded with the nick-name "Corey Villain". When he publicly asked for a trade from the Bengals after last season and someone asked him where he'd like to play he said it didn't matter. "I'd rather flip burgers" than play in Cincinatti. When told he was traded to Patriots and asked if the Bengals made a fair trade, he said "They could've traded me for a pizza, it wouldn't have mattered to me."

Suddenly, he was on a team that required its players put the team first and their egos second. There was much speculation whether he would be able to buy into the Patriots' "team philosophy" after causing so much trouble in Cincinatti. But he did. In fact, he became an instant leader. What was initially thought of as selfishness in Cincinatti, turned out to be mere frustration with losing.

Whether he wins again this weekend, and goes onto the Super Bowl, or bows out to the Steelers, he's finally gotten a taste of winning.

Tales from Days of Yore.

2005-01-13T13:59:00.001-08:00

vs.

Way back, if the Age of Employment, I was flown to L.A. for a "Business Meeting" with a brand. This basically consists of going to dinner and allowing someone else to pay for it. Little did I know it would turn out to be a lesson in perspective.

I arrived at the restaurant and my manger walked over, grabbed me by the arm and said, "You won't believe who just came in, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas!" Unfortunately, the excitement of our good fortune soon faded for me. While everyone at our table was giddy with enthusiam to be sitting across from the said couple, my interest was soon reduced to wondering if her real name was Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas, and if there's a limit on hyphenated names. If she gets married again, can she keep the "-Douglas" and just add more names like legos?

I will say this about being awe-struck by the couple: When I first saw CZ-J, I said the exact same thing Charlie Murphy said when he first saw O.J. Simpson. Which was, "That's Catherine Zeta-Jones. Man, she's got a big head!" Big. Head. I'm reminded of Merv Griffin (often), who supposedly had a very strict policy with his television shows to only hire personalities with large heads because it translates better on the screen. The most famous examples being Pat Sajak and Vanna White. Maybe Merv was right. Maybe the struggles of finding extra-extra-large head gear can be made up in the form of an acting career.

Regardless.

So I sat there all night, ate expensive Asian-Fusion food, and listened to the table gush about how talented that particular Hollywood couple is. Now, I love movies and pop culture, but I'm also a cynical indie film geek, so hearing how underated CZ-J is was a bit sickening. Maybe it was because some of the people at our table never see Hollywood personalities, or that one of our diners was a recently no-longer-struggling actress, since landing a role on LAX (that's right, the show about an airport. I missed the episode where that luggage goes missing!), but the praise was non-stop. It wasn't long before I started to believe something was seriously wrong with these people.

But then it happened. With all the energy of a smacked out junkie, I gazed towards the entrance and saw Tony Delk walk in. And then Chris Mills. "Holy shit," I said aloud, "That's Tony Delk!"

"Who's Tony Delk?"

"And Chris Mills!"

"Who's Chris Mills?"

"Who's Chris Mills!? He used to come off the bench for the Warriors!" And with that outburst whatever potential dignity I mustered up at the table was gone. Suddenly, the people I pitied were actively pitying me. O' Cruel Fate! I must have been so viciously looking down my nose at my company that the gods of humility had to step in and push Tony Delk into the room. -Just to remind me that being a geek is all a matter of perspective. Touché!

As the saying goes, "One man's trash, is another man's Tony Delk."

Farewell Sweet Sports Year!

2005-01-09T16:25:00.000-08:00

As you probably know, I enjoy the world of professional sports competition. Not only has it proved entertaining and exciting, it's always been an effective tool of discourse in the male world of poor communication skills. That's my sociologigal excuse, but the truth is I simply enjoy it.

Last year for me, being a hopeless Boston Sports fan, was a gift from god, all the gods. Like, if there's a Justice League for Deities (like there is for Super Heroes), they all sat down and said, "Maybe Jeff would like to see the Red Sox, the Patriots and the Connecticut Huskies win national championships this year? -And let's throw in the Pistons creaming the Lakers in basketball, too." So I thank you all for your generosity.

A few years ago, Lisa and I were talking about Kirk Gibson in the 1988 World Series. For those who don't know, Gibson was playing for the Los Angeles Dodgers, who were heavy underdogs to the Oakland A's that year. Gibson had an injured knee and was questionable to play ot all. In the first game, he hobbled up to the plate in the last inning, hit a ridiculous home run to win the game, limped around the bases, and never batted again in the Series that the Dodgers easily won. Lisa, being from Los Angeles and a huge Dodger fan pulled her shirt sleeve back and said, "Look. Goose bumps. Even now. -Over 10 years after it happened. Goose Bumps."

It's amazing to me that just the mere memory of an event could effect someone so much. I now know how it feels. The other day ESPN was doing an "End of the Year" sports review and when they profiled the Red Sox winning 4 games in a row to come back from an 0-3 game deficeit to beat the Yankees, I pulled back my sleave, and there it was. Goose Bumps.

Welcome to Oz!

2005-01-05T13:04:00.000-08:00

Ya know that scene in the movie where the hero gets sent to jail and he meets his new Cell-Mate? Well, that's what this is like. I heartily apologize for my lack of posts in the last month, but fear not! Word has come down and I was unable to stay on at my Zappos job, so I've come into a little free time. Therefore, if you're reading this, just imagine you've just been escorted into a jail cell, and I'm standing there looking at you. Ready to get intimate?

That reminds me of a prison joke- A little guy gets sent to jail for tax evasion. When he enters his cell he realizes his cell-mate is a mountain of a man, twice his size. The cell-mate says to him, "I've only got one question, do you wanna be the Mommy or the Daddy?" After thinking about it the man says, "Well, if I have to choose, I guess I'll be the Daddy." And the mountain replies, "Okay. Now get over here and suck Mommy's dick."

So me being laid off is kinda like that story. Aren't you excited?

Things I've done in my 3 days of being unemployed:

Cataloged about 4,000 songs on my computer (Reminiscent of John Cusack in High Fidelity, reorganizing his records to create the illusion of structure in his disorganized life.)
Cleaned the cat's box (An event not to be unappreciated.)
Watched Anchorman twice.
Made pancakes (another event not to go unappreciated.)
Applied for unemployment on-line.
Had my first of many Bored Meetings with unemployed comrades at World Sausague on Market St.
Redefined my world through the help of my IPod Mini. This is clearly the greatest gift I've ever received (Thanks Mom!). Not only does it improve your mood, build resiliency against the weather, but it makes all the homeless people in my neighborhood sound like Husker Du. Magnificent!

So I'm looking forward to our time together in the future. If anyone bothers you in the cafeteria or courtyard, you just tell them you're mine and they'll know not to touch you. Okay, little buddy?

Life is Worth Living!

2004-11-15T20:56:00.000-08:00

Something happened a couple weeks ago that has once again restored my faith and hope in this world. What could that be? No doubt the world is currently in a horrible time of crisis; between worst-case scenario election results, the worsening direction of the country, the military pounding of an ancient city into rubble without a care for innocent civilians, while deranged madmen plot even worse events, and through a constant monotone of depression, what could possibly warm my cockles and fill me with the innocent giggles of a schoolboy? Seeing a newborn bird take flight? Witnessing a breathtaking sunset? Watching a butterfly land on a retarded boy's nose, making him feel special and alive (Stolen from Dave Attell, pick up his CD!)?

Nope.

In a post-game interview, University of Pittsburgh quarterback, Tyler Palko said, on the air, "I'm just so proud of our fucking football team." -Gives me goosebumps even thinking of it. Whenever I hear the F-Bomb dropped on network television, I know it's going to be a good day. And it hasn't happened in a while. I missed Bono saying, "Fucking brilliant" at some award ceremony, but I wouldn't have seen it anyway, since I live on the West coast and they would have had time to edit it out. Bastards! That's one of the things I do miss about the East coast, actual live television. So sports is the only chance I have for experience this flub.

When it happens, all I can think of is the cultural shock-waves it sends out across the country. -The midwestern grandmothers falling out of their recliners with disgust. -The screaming parents, and their wide-eyed, laughing-themselves-silly children. I get great joy from something so innocuous that offends people to their very core. -A threat to their existence and their fragile way of life.

The last time I saw this event was after the Pittsburgh Steelers (whaddup, Pittsburgh? I love you all!) won the AFC Championship (thank you again, sports!). In the locker room when the trophy was presented to one of the defensive backs (possibly Chad Brown), he held it above his head and proclaimed, "We're all happy about this, but this team's not going to be satisfied until we win the fucking Super Bowl!!!" After which, Bob Costas said what was probably the funniest thing he's ever uttered, saying "Chad Brown [forgive me Chad if I'm getting this wrong] obviously unfamiliar with the concept of live television."

For all my glee, what happened after Palko's remarks just proves how serious a threat that word is to both the financial well-being of the network, and the viewers' sensibilities. Immediately after, announcer Tom Hammons apologizes profusely for the young man's language. An obvious plea to avoid the wrath (in the form of fines) of FCC Commissioner, Michael Powell, who's been very busy ever since that purely intentional Janet Jackson "Malfunction" at the Super Bowl. After their game wrap-up, Hammons came back again and apologized!

I love it and hope it happens again.

A Fucking Tragedy.

2004-11-09T10:03:00.000-08:00

What's that? Don't feel bad enough? Take a ride on the consciousness-raising train-wreck that is Control Room, Jehane Noujaim's brilliant documentary about Al Jazeera television's Gulf War coverage. Talk about being caught in the middle. This film adeptly maps out the internal feud for objective journalism on both sides of the media coverage. Al Jazeera journalists struggle to cover a war many feel is directed at Muslims, while trying to not let their Islamic identity bleed through.

The film provides amazing realizations on both sides in an attempt to understand each other's perspective. At one point a US Media Commander realizes how uneffected he was by video of Iraqi casualties only after seeing footage of fallen American troops. He ultimately concedes all the tactics he criticizes Al Jazeera for, are no different from the common patriotic tactics of Fox News. In the Special Features section of the DVD (don't forget to watch), an Al Jazeera news producer deftly rants about how misguided the American presence in Iraq is, only to conclude the Arab world only has itself to blame for not overthrowing Saddam Hussein themselves.

Definitely the most interesting player in all this is Al Jazeera Executive producer, Samir Khader (pictured above). At one point he freely admits he'd immediately take a job with Fox News if he was given an offer, saying he'd gladly "exchange the Arab nightmare for the American dream." Khader, who seems like a cross between Peter Lorre and a used car salesman with a chain-smoking habit, is really the fulcrum of the film, and ultimately very sympathetic and likable. Constantly trying to keep his personal opinions at bay, he lectures about journalistic objectivity during an emotionally charged war, even chastizing another producer for booking a analyst with a clear agenda. He yells to his coworker, "That wasn't analysis. That was hallucination!"

So why did I call it a train-wreck? The most memorable line in the film is rendered even more tragic following last week's election. At one point, Al Jazeera journalist Hassan Ibrahim, who throughout the film displays a masterful understanding of the events around him, is asked, "Who can defeat the Americans? They are so strong." His answer: "The Americans will defeat the Americans. I have ultimate faith in the American Constitution."

Ouch! Sorry to let ya down, Hassan. Looks like even Al Jazeera was giving the American electorate too much credit.

Way to ruin everything.

2004-11-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

The Red Sox, Halloween, traveling, seeing old friends, downing champagne. Boy, did that all that fun end abruptly. Thanks for nothing, Red State America! Get your "Gimme Red 'til I'm Dead!" T-Shirts at the inaguration.

What was the difference? In a word, Terrorism. It's hard to argue that 9/11 has not been the best thing to happen to the Bush Administration in the last 4 years. I have no doubt they would have found a way to invade Iraq without it, but this election came down to fear of Terrorism, no doubt. How else would you explain life-long Democrats like Ed Koch and the bulk of retired Northeasterers in Florida voting for Bush? Koch said on the Daily Show that he doesn't agree with Bush on a single domestic issue, yet the War on Terror trumped all those other issues.

While watching the election, late into the night, a cry came out from the street that was lifted right from my inner thoughts. It simply said, "Fuck Ohio!" over and over again. True enough. After all, that state lost 300,000 jobs during the Bush years, which usually would send one running for the challenger.

Still, I gotta put a lot of this back onto Florida again. Kerry was leading in the polls there 2 days before the election, but when it all came down to it, those geriatric douchebags went with the guy who's more likely to defend themselves from an attack that will never effect them. I guess it's true what they say in the Intensive Care Unit, "Everyday's a Gift." So if you're rapidly approaching a dirt nap in Tallahasee, you go with the guy who'll fend off the brown people so you can watch Matlock in peace.

And, yes, let's not forget the youth vote. Even your overrated icon Eminem urged you to get out there and ya still sat on your ass like there was a 24 hour Real World marathon going on. I have to agree with Andrew, and hope there is a draft, that'll get you out to the polls next time. I'm willing to bet the bulk of soldiers returning from Iraq voted. Also, don't forget next season's CNN Fall line up, including The War in Iran, which is only the popular lead-in to The War in Syria. Hell, you might make it onto Military Fear Factor after all. Consolation prizes include, Post-Tramatic Stress Syndrome, Flashbacks while teenagers laugh at you, and (the very popular) your arm, or leg. And if you manage to make it out of that, guess what? Trillions of dollars of deficits! There's no money left! There go the V-A benefits. Hope ya like camping, 'cuz you'll be doing it on the streets. -All because you were too busy waiting to tape that Good Charlotte video.

Again, thank you Red State America, you've assured the next generation of Bin Ladens will grow up to destroy some worthy State-side target, all of which are conveniently located in the Blue States. If I had ten minutes with a terrorist, I'd give him the entire NASCAR schedule.

Faith

2004-10-25T16:21:00.000-07:00

Taking off again today. This time, it's to go back to Boston for all the elation or disappointment that comes along with this year's World Series. I've always said if the Sox were "in jeopardy" of winning the World Series, I'd head back to Boston for the party and subsequent urban riot (I would hate to miss either). So here I go. I probably won't have much opportunity to post while I help the citizens of Boston push buildings into the Charles River, but I'll try.

Last week's games were so monumental and draining, I really neglected the Junction. Here's my thoughts on the Yankees Series:

The defining moment had to be A-Rod's slap of the glove. Like Lisa pointed out, one can almost understand what he was trying to get away with, but to actually argue with the umps about it reveals not only desperation, but just how much a petulant douche he really is. And Tom commented on just what a horrible team player A-Rod is. If he doesn't do that, Jeter is in scoring position with 2 outs, after the slap, Jeter is back on first with 2 outs.

Here's what he said afterwards:
"They (umpires) said I could run him over kind of like a catcher, but I can't go out of my way to knock the ball out of his hand. My response is, if he's trying to touch my stomach, I can knock his arm."

What the fuck? That's exactly the opposite of what the umpires told him he could do! He soon concluded to the press:
"I don't want those umpires to meet anymore. When they do, it goes against the Yankees."

As the Sportsguy put it, that's the difference this time around:
"With the old Red Sox, Bellhorn's homer gets ruled a double, A-Rod definitely gets called safe at first base, and Miguel Cairo clears the bases for the game-winner in the ninth."

My other favorite quote from last night came out of Johnny Damon when they asked him to comment on the crowd throwing shit onto the field, prompting the riot police to come out:
"I've definitely seen it in Oakland. We thought this place was a little bit different."

I think the Oakland Tourism slogan should be, "Oakland, the land of low expectations."

While waiting for the bus this morning, I tried to determine what I'd like to see more, the Sox or Kerry win. Tough choice, but considering what lays in the balance, I'd have to go with Kerry, since the Sox can always try again next year. -Very surprising, especially from someone flying back to Boston tonight just to watch the games on television. Basically, that means the Sox will win and we'll all suffer through four more destructive years of redneck rule. In any other election year, I'd gladly sacrifice 4 years in the Executive for a Sox Championship, but things are dire politically. Besides, even if we lose to the Cardinals, people will mostly remember the Yankees series.

Is there any sense in expecting to win both? Can a guy dream?

As for tonight...

2004-10-20T14:35:00.000-07:00

My only Yankees fan friend (everyone should have one), Steve put it best:

ALL IN.

You're serious, aren't you?

2004-10-18T23:01:00.000-07:00

I promise to not make all these about baseball.

Following Sunday night's 5 hour Sox/Yanks game that the Sox finally won in extra innings, giving hope (however fleeting) to Sox fans everywhere, I was so drained. -Just from watching. I can't imagine what it was like for those guys playing.

The best and worst aspect of baseball is the pace. When you're watching a bad game, you think nothing could possibly be more boring. When you're watching a good game, there's so much drama generated in the moments between plays it can be mentally and physically taxing just to watch. So with the most storied rivalry in baseball, elimination for the Red Sox laying in the balance, and hours of extra innings to ponder what you'd like to see happen, Sunday's game could make even the most casual baseball fan reach into the medicine cabinet.

But the Sox pulled it out. So there's hope, right? Like I wrote earlier, "Don't Stop Believin'."

A coworker, knowing all about my genetically encoded Red Sox addiction, mentioned the game and noted how great it was to see the Sox win one. I immediately agreed. He talked about how difficult it must have been for those fans to sit on the edge of their seats, wondering if it was gonna be the Sox last game for over 5 hours.

"Maddening. Absolutely maddening," I replied. "All I can hope for is to win today's game, and for the Sox to squeak out a cheap game 6 win. 'Cuz as we saw with the Sox in '86, and the Giants a couple years ago, a heart-breaking game 6 all but assures victory in game 7, right?"

This is where, having finished my thought, I paused for the other end of the conversation to be picked up, but there was only silence. Nothing. Realizing I've been looking down at my desk, I quickly looked up to find that "Oh, no" look. That concerned, almost parental, "I don't want to see you get hurt again" look. The "You're serious, aren't you?" look.

Like this:

The conversation ended rather abruptly with the statement, "At least they didn't get skunked," which I agreed and quickly sunk into an awkward silence.

So here I am. Another October. Believing the same old story. Only this year, the setting appears even more delusional. Down 3 games to none, a deficit no team has ever come back from, and coming off just one cosmetic marathon extra inning game to provide a glimmer of hope.

Am I sick? Do I like pain?

Tonight's game: even longer, more dramatic, more drawn out than last night. 14 innings. Almost 6 hours. Sox 5, Yanks 4. Sox trail 3 Games to 2, the rest of the series in New York.

Thank you to all the enablers who called me when it was finally over. I love you with all my heart. Tomorrow's game starts at 4:50 Pacific.

Oh, yeah, I accidentally, in a drunken stupor, pledged to go see Hall & Oates at the Concord Pavillion on Wednesday. It definitely sounds like something funny to actually do, but the only thing that could spare me that fate is if there's a Game 7. I already informed my friends, if the Sox beat the Yanks and people call me after the game and hear Hall & Oates in the backround, they'll think I've really lost it.

So how's that for fate laying in the balance? As my friend Jon said, "How is it that, during the entire retro 80's thing, they're the only band that never got cool again?" So please guys, stare into this photo and save me:

Red Sox Philosophy Intersects with 70's Arena Rock

2004-10-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

A friend once told me the best argument against the existence of God is that Christian Rock bands are all so terrible. (I believe the actual phrase was "...couldn't suck more.") We then both realized that the best argument for the existence of God was that Journey frontman, Steve Perry, was stricken with throat cancer.

I was reminded of this metaphysical riddle at the conclusion of the Sox/Yankees game last night, a game the Sox eventually won, to barely stay alive 3 games to 1. Knowing full well no team has ever returned from 3-0 down in a 7 game series to win, I needed just a minute amount of encouragement in order to enjoy this win. Luckily the phone rang. The voice on the other end simply said, "In the words of Steve Perry, 'Don't Stop Believin'." Like many Red Sox fans, in the absence of any religious beliefs whatsoever, Steve Perry, bad throat and all, seems a fitting deity.

Indeed. Have there ever been more appropriate lyrics?:

"Working hard to get my fill,
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin’ anything to roll the dice,
Just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on"

How 'bout:

"Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night!"

Actually, maybe Steve wasn't talking about baseball there.

Game 5, today, 2PM Pacific. God willing, the Red Sox Wheel in the Sky will keep on turning.

"Business Trip"

2004-10-14T10:46:00.000-07:00

'Heading to LA on business until Saturday. Until then, gaze upon the photo above and listen to this at full volume until all your questions about life are answered:
Common People.

Also, 'saw I Heart Huckabees last night. The only problem with it is it's too short, but then again, I wanted it to go on forever. It's like watching God on The Gong Show. Pure Genius.

The Face of Grief.

2004-10-13T08:18:00.000-07:00

Not the grief of the Red Sox, although that does apply here.

Does anyone else hate it when, like clockwork, the sports media turns some story into this year's Yankees Post-Season Inspiration Angle? Most people who follow baseball are thinking it already, it just needs an insensitive jackass to point it out.

Right on schedule, the New York sports machine has found their latest "Face of Courage" story. Following in the grand tradition of Darryl Strawberry's cancer, Joe Torre's dying brother, and the mother of all opportunistic tragedies, 9/11, we now have the story of Mariano Rivera's distant relatives who were electrocuted in his house back in Panama. Truly a horrible tragedy, but the way it was reported, near the top of all sportscasts, I was convinced it was a direct relative of Rivera's. In fact, I told people it must have been his own child because of all the coverage devoted to the story. As it turns out, it's his wife's cousin, and his wife's cousin's son (which I don't even think there's a genealogy title for. Second cousin?).

Now, I'm certainly not down-playing what occurred, it's terrible, but the way the sports media portrayed it, with a concerned and dramatic hush, wondering if Riveria would pitch at all in the ALCS, smacks of their own opportunistic dramatization. Could it be that the storied Sox/Yanks rivalry is being enhanced by vulture sports journalism, looking to inject every last drop of drama into it's already over-loaded veins?

"Oh, no, would Mariano pitch in the series?" Of course he would! And he did, quite well actually. In fact, the day before game 1, he told the sports world he was simply going to finish up some family obligations in Panama and he'd be ready for the series. This, of course, couldn't stop the momentum of the story. They broadcasted Mariano getting out of his car and walking into the stadium, the dramatic long ovation the formerly nervous Yankee fans gave him when they announced his name in the line up, and his courageous entrance into the bull pen. This all perfectly sets up that humanizing, and familiar Yankee storyline of "how brave and courageous (insert name) is to put their personal distraction aside and focus enough to play for our Yankees."

This is not just a Yankee phenomenon, recently NFL sportscasters haven't stopped talking about the game Brett Farve played last year following the death of his father against the hapless Raiders. Now, it's not that his perfomance in that game is anything to marginalize, but it is nauseating the way the coverage continues to milk it for every last cheap rating point. The worst recent example of this warped awe-inspiring side-story came in the way sportscasters spoke of the focus and courage Kobe Bryant displayed to put the distraction of a rape trial aside to concentrate on shooting jumpers. How brave!

So it's not so much that these tragedies occur, but the way they're exploited to over-dramatize the games, which definitely are secondary, is really unconscionable. In the case of Rivera, I still think they're reaching. Every shot of him last night revealed a smiling, at ease, relief pitcher, just like he's always been. And that's not to say he's not upset, but did anyone think that the constant coverage of his ordeal isn't merely to document compassion? Did anyone consider that this is a personal problem and that Mariano might not want to have a camera on him every step of the way? From what I can see, the coverage hasn't bothered him.

Now, when he said to the media he just had to go down to Panama and take care of some family obligations, he could very well have been saying, "I'm just going down there to find out who those two people were who snuck into my hot tub. I'm now told they're somehow related to me. Can you believe that? Of course I'll be back for the game. The family of these two might sue me, so I may need the money for lawyer fees." He could have said that verbatim, but they sports coverage would have still painted it as the face of Yankee Courage. I can see it now, if the Yankees win, Rivera will be interviewed in front of all Yankee stadium and say, "I would like to dedicate my performance to the memories of those two people I sort of knew. I know, right now, they're up in heaven, looking down on this and, ...ahh, the big one is smiling at the little one. Thank You, New York!"

They'll probably make a movie about it.

NERDS!!!

2004-10-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

Ever get the perverse desire just to bother people for hours on end?

On my daily commute to work, I have the pleasure of riding passed San Francisco's City Hall and Civic Center. Last week I noticed a lot of construction going on. An outdoor stage was being set up as well as huge tents. Now, the Civic Center is the site of many a public function. From the Gay Pride Parade, to a failed attempt to move the SF Halloween celebration out of the Castro. It also includes the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, SF Public Library, and the Asian Art Museum, so it's not surprising that another multiple-day event would be setting up. But for days I couldn't figure out what it was.

Then, one morning I saw on stage (Spoiler Alert) what appeared to be technicians testing out a huge mechanical Pac-Man, chomping an illuminated white pellet. What could possibly be going on here that they would finally erect a proper tribute to the pop culture phenomenon who's eponymous fever grew to epidemic proportions in the early 80's? Why, The World Cyber Game Conference!

Having lost much of my pre-teen years to video arcades, this piqued my interest. Could Buckner and Garcia actually be slated to perform? How could they ever free up from their busy schedule?

That excitement lasted only a few seconds, for video games have come a long way and I, fortunately, have been left behind. What's featured in this day and age are complex one-on-one fantasy and fighting games that the internet allows you to play against other shut-ins around the world.

This leaves me with a crotchety, 34-year old scowl as I gaze upon the Pac-Man monument, grumbling nonsense like, "How many of those kids even know what that is?" And then sounding suspiciously like Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner just as he's about to die, "I have seen levels of Tempest, & Defender, & Space Invaders, that you people could only dream of!"

Flash-back: 1980, Ziggy's Video Arcade, Taunton Massachusetts. A ten year old version of myself studies every move of a venerable 18 year old master of Defender, clearly the most difficult video game in the world. I scan for the secret "pattern" that the game designers, according to talk in the men's room, have programmed in that would make any player invincible. This is the current-day Fountain of Youth that teens and adolescents have devoted more time to finding than all of Ponce De Leon's years. The Pac-Man pattern is real. Not only have I seen it in action, but multiple books have documented it's existence. The Defender equivalent, though, is still in question.

Goddamn that game. Just the name commanded respect back then. All other games paled in comparison. Pac-Man and Centipede looked silly being in the same room with Defender. Only the conceptual Tempest could be placed side-by side and not get embarrassed. But make no mistake, if Defender was The Police, it made all other games look like Christopher Cross.

Now the world through ten year old eyes is much different from reality. I remember watching the Defender high score champion, with his pack of cigarettes rolled in his T-Shirt sleeve and his skanky girlfriend, just waiting to go to the back seat of his Trans Am, and thinking, "That's all I want in the world. I want high score, the skakiest girl in the arcade, cigarettes, and having sex in a car to Rush's Moving Pictures." Unfortunately, I think, I achieved none of those.

How many kids at WCG will have flash-backs like that? How many VietNam vets have flash-backs that lucid?

Now I know how old people feel when the come across a car they had as a teenager. Maybe someday I'll wheel my chair into a throw-back restaurant, see a Defender game some kitschy interior designer thought would be hilarious to put in the corner, and be so moved with nostalgia I'll actually stop shitting into my bag for 10 seconds.

What was the point? Oh, yeah, having spent most of my later years absorbing, not distributing common nerd abuse, I feel strangely tempted to attend WCG costumed like Ogre of Revenge of the Nerds fame, and scream "Nerds!" as loud as possible. Most people wouldn't get it, but those who do, would love it to no end. It's thoughts like that that remind me how much we miss Andy Kaufman.

Debate Team

2004-10-06T15:29:00.000-07:00

Ever watch a presidential (or vice-presidential) debate and think to yourself, "Hell, I could do a better job than this guy."? For all his efforts last night (which weren't bad), I have to admit I was a little disappointed in John Edwards's performance. I think it was simply that I heard, because of his experience as a trial lawyer, he would lay waste to Cheney in a way not seen since the Tyson-Spinks fight of 1989 (90 seconds to a knock-out). I think I got my hopes too high up. Still, at least he didn't lose the debate, like Bush did last Thursday.

So here's my political wish list for the next debate on Friday:

1. When Bush inevitably starts the "Flip-Flopper Attack", as he and Cheney are so fond of, I plead Kerry to simply state that conviction is a very important and admirable quality, only if you're right. Otherwise, it's common thick-headedness. Can't he just say, "Mr. President, I would love to give you credit for having conviction, if you were ever once correct in your decisions in the last four years. Why should we celebrate someone's stubbornness?" I feel Kerry is spending so much time trying to clarify his positions in the past, this fundamental point is being lost.

&

2. When, once again, Bush implies that a Kerry/Edwards White House would compromise homeland security against another 9/11-like attack. Kerry should just ask, "How in the world could anyone do a worse job than you did leading up to 9/11? One would have to work very hard to do worse." Indeed. One of the most insidious strategies of the Bush campaign is, as John McLaughlin called it, "Vote Bush or Die!" Simply put, the President and Vice-President are going around trying to scare people into voting for them using the threat of another imminent state-side attack. -An attack they're more qualified to prevent. In fact, Cheney has even started mentioning a nuclear explosion as the next possible attack on US soil. Now, how do they figure you're safer with the current White House, who by all accounts dropped the ball on thwarting the largest terrorist attack in American History? They screwed up on preventing it, yet it's one of the cornerstone strategies of their entire campaign.

What the fuck?

Libertines Update

2004-10-02T13:06:00.000-07:00

As expected, I bought a ticket to last night's sold out Libertines show at the Fillmore. So for the third time, I've paid 100% to see 75% of the band. As mentioned before, Libertines co-frontman, and full time drug addict, Pete Doherty, was not along for the second consecutive US tour. Reports have him abruptly canceling UK shows of his other band, Babyshambles. The official excuse for an Aberteen no-show? -Pete fell down the stairs. As expected, riots promptly followed.

"Fell down the stairs." That poor, sick fuck. That must be the most incidious, infuriating component of addiction, the inability to see merit in anything other than your next fix. The Libertines are one of the top two bands in England (along with The Darkness), yet Doherty wants nothing to do with them, which I'm convinced is due to fellow band mate and guitarist Carl Barat demanding he clean up.

These guys only play to sold out shows, and even Babyshambles is wildly popular, but Pete continues to prioritize that well below heroin and crack. As a fan, it saddens me, I can't even begin to imagine how frustrating it must be for someone who is close and cares for him. Those people must have had their hearts broken about a thousand times already.

For England, this is a national tragedy. Even beloved 77 year old English actress, June Brown, got involved and paid to have Pete sent and committed to a Thai rehab monastary. He only lasted a week before escaping and going on a 3 day heroin bender in a Bankok hotel room. -Sad, but not the first time he's released himself from rehab by his own reconnaissance. At a British clinic, he claims to have been kicked out because he left to take in a soccer game. Soon after that, he posted this message to fans on his website: "Will someone lend me £1,000 until the album comes out? I'll do a one-on-one, any song you like. Or gig for the cash on the nail." His financial hardship is due to Libertines manager, Alan McGee, limiting his cash flow for obvious reasons. Even in this month's Spin magazine there's a report of multiple photos circulating around the internet of Pete smoking crack.

Goddamnit.

And for the compassionate side of the story, fellow bandmember, Carl Barat, has always condended that Pete is welcome back in the band once he cleans up. In fact, he pleads and looks forward to that day saying, "I want to be in a band with my friend. That's all I can say." And when asked if they'd ever play together again- "if he turned up and he was the Peter I know and love, then of course, that’d be natural. It’s a bit of a fucking tricky one really." So while Pete continues to slide and publicly trash his old band and friend, it appears Carl only wants his friend back. Indeed, here's the cover photo of NME when Pete got out of jail and they were back together long enough to cut the latest CD (Pete on the right):

That type of loyalty and compassion I find amazing. It must be incredibly difficult to take someone back despite repeated fuck-ups. It must be even harder to decide it better to shun a close friend rather than to accept his self-destruction.

One of the Libertines many strong points has always been their lyrics. So last night while contemplating the obvious void onstage and all the band's efforts to keep it together, it seemed heart-breaking to watch Carl sing:

"Monkey asked the mouse before
If she loved anybody more than he
It turns you into stone
Now I'm reversing down the lonely street
To a cheap hotel when I can meet the past
And pay it off and keep it sweet
It's sweet like nothing no
It's just like nothing at all

Yes I've seen you there
How could I help but stare
It rips the heart out off your baby
Now I've taken far too much to see
Or think or touch what's real
I'm stranded on this street that
Paved my only way home

You really need it oh
You just won't leave it behind

So baby please kill me
Oh baby don't kill me
But don't bring that ghost round to my door
I don't wanna see him anymore"

Oh, yeah, the show was great. -Lots of hip high schoolers. When I looked around, my first thought was, "Man, I haven't seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High in a long time." And despite there not being the full Libertines line-up, it's always worth it to see a show at the Fillmore, if for no other reason than for the free poster on the way out. The one for last night's show is magnificent.

Wood Elves and Druids

2004-09-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

'Went to the wedding the tabloids said would never happen this weekend, that of Ambrose Gallagher and Leslie Hodges. Unlike the photo above, though, they were not married by famous Bond villain, Richard Kiel. The setting was the Trinity Mountains up Mount Shasta way, which does provide quite a view, as the two hostages above can attest. And despite the beautiful natural surroundings, there were no Wood Elves or Druids in attendance, just transplanted urbanites falling all over each other, and sometimes into the campfire.

In fact, this wedding had all the same dramas, reconciliations, and reunions common at those events. For me it was a chance to see and interact with people outside a five block radius of my apartment, which rarely happens. Being in the woods can actually be fun as well, which sounds obvious, but I rarely get out there anymore. It reminds me of something the philosopher Coach McGuirk said, "Camping isn't fun, it's not supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be so bad, that it builds character. So that we can all say we survived it together. That's what it's all about." Still, the collection of characters in attendance was so top-notch, I hardly realized that only a thin sliver of nylon separated my sleeping body from a city of hostile dirt mites.

So congratulations, Gallaghers, on a successful wedding and I wish you all the happiness in the world!

Music Part II

2004-09-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

A close friend once said that the phase "They're really big in Europe" always sounds apologetic, like it's an excuse for something. Nevertheless, here's a band that's really big in England, and it's just our loss. The Libertines are fantasic. If this country can't appreciate them, that's tragic. Tragic, yes, but not nearly as the inevitable, impending tragedy that is The Libertines. These guys antics would make a career publicist very happy, except it's all unfortunately true. In a review of their last CD, Alex Pappademas mentioned lead singer Pete Doherty's "epic substance abuse problem." In-deed. Not since Sean Ryder of the doomed Happy Mondays has there been such a lack of self-control.

Here's a little Libertines history:

-They become the most popular band in England, according to NME magazine. Doherty has a falling out with lead guitarist Carl Barat, failing to show up at some shows.
-On one absent night, Doherty breaks into Barat's flat, steals some equipment, gets caught, and thrown in jail for two months.
-Barat takes the rest of the band to the states to tour.
-Doherty says he plans to form his own band, also named The Libertines.
-Upon his release, Barat and Doherty pull things together, go back into the studio with Clash frontman, Mick Jones producing.
-One night after recording, Barat retires to a hot tub with a bottle of whiskey. As he gets out, he slips and falls face-first into the corner of the sink counter, breaking his cheekbone and detaching his retina. Not fully knowing what happed due to his drunken haze, he goes to sleep only to wake up on a bloody pillow and unable to see. Two operations later, he can see again.
-The band starts to tour. One night, Doherty disappears from the stage for an extended peroid, only to reemerge covered in sweat and energetic, telling the crowd he just needed to go for a jog.
-At another show, enthusiastic fans break through the wall and the band completes their show on top of parked cars on the street.
-Another Barat-Doherty falling out due to Doherty's heroin addiction.
-Doherty checks himself into a rehab clinic at a Thailand monastary, flees, and spends the next 3 days in a Bankok hotel room, having only heroin room-delivered.
-The band, sans Doherty (again), now heads to the states to tour.

So they're coming to the Fillmore soon. I guess I'll go, because the way I figure it, these guys could die any day now. Either that, or they're the next Jagger and Richards -utterly indestructable. I still hope to see the full band someday. To all of you who went to Cochella two years ago and saw them all, count yourselves very lucky.

Oh yeah, here's the cover of their latest CD:

I don't think anyone can argue this isn't a great picture of one guy holding up his on-again/off-again friend while he searches for his last uncollapsed vein to shoot something he bought in the men's room into. That's fucking teamwork!

-And both their CD's are great.

Let's just forget about all that.

2004-09-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

Let's not bicker over who hasn't written what. We all know who's at fault here.

So onto Music! Music Photos! Exhibit A:

I almost want to open this up to the floor and sponsor a "Best Caption"contest, but the prize would be merely my admiration (so feel free). Okay, my first reaction/joke when I saw this cover was, "Did Jack Black quit Tenacious D? And who are those other 3 people?" But after further reflection (and hours of staring) I've concluded that, although I've never been approached by a deranged doomsday cult, this must be what it looks like. Stare into Frank Black's eyes and tell me he's not saying, "Won't you come join me in the tail of the comet? The human form can be so constricting."

Actually, he's more likely saying, "$40 a ticket with a $10 internet convenience fee, please." -That's what I paid for a ticket to see the Pixies. Incidentally, I'm selling those tickets to the Friday Greek Theater Show in Berkeley (anyone interested?), and not because of some unfortunate music magazine photo. Despite that unpleasantness, I'd still love to see them. Alas, I'm going to a good friend's wedding, one that he's assured me he and his wife will slow dance to "Debaser". So, although I'd love to, I will not be joining Frank, Kim, Joey, David, & Kim's junkie sister for a spiritual bon voyage glass of Kool-aid out of a trash can. For those who are going, though, enjoy the flight!

If you get a chance, page through the Spin article, there are some priceless photos of a younger, more streamlined Frank Black. Makes me feel old.

Political Endorsement?

2004-08-18T22:58:00.000-07:00

This might seem a but silly initially, but give it a shot:
How Jesus Would Vote?

There you'll find a Yahoo! article about a consortium of religious experts who undertook the daunting, theological question of "Who Would Jesus Vote (for)?" Pretty silly, right? But think about it, there's such an undercurrent of religious righteousness in this country that, maybe we should look at today's issues armed with the teachings of Jesus. At a presidential debate 4 years ago, when asked to name an influential philosopher, George W. Bush responded, "Christ". This isn't surprising, after all, if Republicans can wrap themselves in the flag, they must be equally adept at wraping themselves in the Shroud. Since he admittedly isn't a big "reader", one can only assume his answer meant the idea of Christ, and not his teachings.

Indeed, in the above article one author was met with jeers and laughs when he said,"If ever there were a bleeding-heart liberal, it was Jesus Christ." Now, I'm not religious (7 years of Catholic school made sure of that), but I'll go a step further. When you think of the time he lived, Jesus was very much a rebel. Here was a good Jewish kid who was given all the ancient Old Testament "An Eye for an Eye" teachings and said, "Nah, fuck that. Turn the other cheek and love thy brother."

Especially now, when the conservative right claims they're merely doing what God, Jesus Christ, would want (Bush admitted to biographers that he prayed for God's leadership after giving the order to bomb the shit out of Iraq), if we really examine the teachings (New Testament!), most of the conservative agenda is quite opposite of Christ's teachings. Of all the hotbed political issues, waging war, protection of wealth, saving the environment, abortion (I can't recall what Jesus said about abortion, but I'm sure it's in there), and gay marraige (Who, I ask, loves thy brother more than the homosexuals?), it would be easy to imagine that hippy Jesus taking the liberal perspective.

Not that I seriously seek the endorsement of Christ. In fact, after the Catholic church threatened to not serve Kerry Communion unless he changed his stance on abortion, I was really hoping he would do what any normal Catholic does when facing a real-life conflict with the church, simply pretend it don't exist. Remember, most of those brutal mobsters were devout Catholics. Think they were sweating out church teachings while performing a hit? Maybe that's what Bush is doing? Claiming to be religious while ignoring the teachings. Still, it would be fun to watch someone point out just how un-Christlike the current administration's policies are, especially given the affection they have for him.

To illustrate just who were talking about, play the Religious Right Match Game. The authors of that page (not the Religious Right), say "So Scary, They're Almost Funny", I say, "Yes-Scary, Yes-Funny."

Scoring off the Elderly.

2004-08-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

'Just have to share something before I get down to business. I was channel surfing tonight and came across one of those "List" shows on Fox Sports (yes, it's not just VH-1 doing it anymore). The theme was something like "The Most Hilarious Moments in Sports". The format is just like VH-1, where they parade out B-List celebrities (okay, maybe C) and have them comment on the events.

Coming in at #6 was 72 year old Don Zimmer of the New York Yankees getting thrown to the ground by Pedro Martinez of the Boston Red Sox during a baseball brawl. For those who have no frame of reference, baseball brawls are a load of shit, and thankfully so. Usually, no one throws a punch, it's just a whole lot of yelling and jock-posturing. But on this occasion, the elder Zimmer charged right into All Star pitcher, Pedro Martinez. The end result: Pedro quickly and easily diverts Zimmer into the Boston grass. (Side note: the next day Zimmer apologized and said he was embarassed for the Yankees, the Red Sox, and his family.)

So the best comment on the event comes from Adam Carolla of Man Show and Love Line fame, who (I admit) I didn't like initially, but have come to realize is a genuinely funny guy. He said (paraphrasing):
"The best part of that whole thing was the look on Zimmer's face when he got up, because it's the same look any elderly person has when they slip and fall. He looked around like, 'What happened?' '-Well, you charged a world class athlete 70 years younger than you. What did you think happened? Did you think we moved your bed and you accidentally slept on the lawn?'"

Genius.

It reminds me of when the Simpsons first came out. While watching an episode, my friend Connie said, "They are so brutal on the elderly!" to which I agreed and then wondered if that was right. Up until this point, the response to virtually every elderly joke in my life was, "You know, you're going to be old some day!" as if the joke would come back and seek its revenge in the nursing home. But even now as I grow old enough for sharp young people to start making fun of me, I declare elderly jokes OKAY! Sure, maybe it's a cheap laugh that appeals to my inner teenager, but I did think it funny when Stuttering John once asked Catherine Zeta Jones at a press conference, "Who's diapers do you change more, your child's or your husband's?"

Cheap laugh? Yes. But if I'm lucky enough to live to be elderly, my only hope is to be laughing right along at the Medicare and Matlock jokes. If I wake up in a nursing home surrounded by a bunch of kids who willingly showed up and like nothing more than respecting the elderly, then I'm definitely surrounded by a bunch of loser kids. And that makes me look bad! Even if I'm shitting into a bag, I don't want a bunch of socially stunted pre-teens ruining my chances with the sponge-bath nurse.

Soldiers in Apathy.

2004-08-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

Time to put down those opinions and decide. The world has become a complex and volatile place. No one can be faulted for standing up for what they believe is best right now. But I have reached a point that has stopped me cold in my tracks. All of my recent loud-mouth campaigning is now silent. For I no longer know where I stand. This month, a decision must be made, and that is the decision of what to care less about, The Republican National Convention (starting Aug.30), or the Olympics (starting Aug. 13th).

This really shouldn't be a problem for me. After all, I grew up in the apathetic 80's, and sat out the disillusioned 90's, so I'm an old hat at this. Still, this is a tough one. On one hand, there's the predictable patriotic posturing of the Republicans, as they desperately try to use simple, easy to understand, slogans to gain acceptence of middle America in order to push through further tax cuts for the rich. On the other hand, there's equestrian events and the USA basketball team. Tough call.

I'm going to have to go with the Olympics, and it's not because I secretly love all the country music that will wallpaper the convention. Even though the Olympics only happen once every 4 years, I feel like I've already seen them. Remember that Keri Shrug gymnast? Everyone was so amazed at her performance except people who saw the same storyline unfold with Mary Lou Retton years before, the only difference was it meant more in the 80's because the Cold War was in full swing (Bring back the evil Soviets!). What was even worse was when Chris Kattan did Shrug on SNL, that got the old apathy gland a pumpin'. I just don't think I can stomach another one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments, AGAIN.

As a sports fan, I do like seeing the less popular sports take center stage, but for many of those you're basically seeing them done no different, just faster. Say what you want about the X-Games, but every year you know you're going to see some nut-job do something incredibly dangerous that's never been tried before. The only true interest I have is seeing the USA basketball team lose, since they've done so poorly leading up to the Olympics. But we all know they'll probably steamroll the competition. Boring!

The Convention on the other hand will be vastly predictable, but I still can't deny my overwhelming compulsion to care slightly about. The presidential election is a dead heat. Even now, as Kerry seems to be pulling ahead in the key swing staes, the difference in the polls is still within the margin of error. So I will care slightly, if for no other reason, than to see how low the GOP will swoop in an attempt to woo both the easily scared and uneducated.

Patton Oswalt has a great joke about how it always amazes him when he meets poor people who support Bush. He equates that to a teenage girl who blows Michael Damian at a county fair and truly believes he's in love with her and won't forget that moment. As he puts it, "No, honey, he appreciated the blowjob, but he's not coming back. Don't fool yourself."

So even though the prime directive of the Republican Party is to desperately protect the wealth from taxation (and allow a few friendly corporations to win multi-mullion dollar government contracts along the way!), they'll be doing everything in their power (hell, yes, country music!) to seem like just you and me.

So you'll have to run solo, Colin Powell, I'll be at home caring just slightly about the Republican Convention.

Playing Catch-Up.

2004-08-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

I've got lots to write about and will sincerely try to get to it all in the next few days, so I'm going back a little in order to catch up. Here goes...

A Brief History of Wasted Time...
If we could just get those obsessed egghead physicists and cosmologists to put down their pencils and stop chasing String Theory evidence and Unified Field Theories of Everything and building gravity telephones to communicate with other dimensions, and put them to work determining something useful, like what the greatest waste of time imaginable is, we'd surely discover that arguing with you ex-girlfriend's husband is right up at the top of the list. That's precisely what happened to me a couple of weeks ago, and I feel horrible just thinking of it. Let me explain, when someone you like who you hardly ever see, comes into town, stay focused on catching up! Don't give in to some long-winded Napoleonic cock-fight that no one really cares about simply out of subconscious caveman competition. That's bad enough, but when you only have a small window of opportunity to catch up, giving in to shouting matches becomes and even greater disservice. For which, I am embarrassed and truly sorry. What's worse, my ex-'s time West was regulated tighter than a stingy alcoholic priest offering up a chalice of wine to the congregation. So when it came time to take a sip, I wasted it without even putting it to my lips. In the words of evil Shatner to the trekkies, "A Colossal Waste of Time." For which, I regret.

Suspicions Confirmed.

2004-08-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

The Hives are absurd, ridiculous, and probably the best band on the planet. 'Saw them at the Fillmore on Sunday night and they were tremendous. With the release of their last CD Tyrannosaurus Hives, and coming off the tremendous Veni Vidi Vicious, The Hives are at the top of their game right now. Although they totally play up the rock-star persona, led by the insanely entertaining Howlin' Pelle, after about five minutes you realize underneath all that affect is an earnestness sorely lacking from American hipster bands. While the Strokes excell at leading their fans in a perfect group pouting pose, The Hives will leave you dehydrated and with a grin that'll last longer than a bad sunburn. It's too bad they've taken off for the Asian and European legs of their tour, with no more American dates scheduled, but I can't imagine they won't return as soon as they can. The Hives are clearly the Beatles of madcap Swedish nutjobs, and must be seen to believed.

This is Ricky Williams.

2004-07-27T23:38:00.000-07:00

Now, this isn't all going to be about sports, but this is a good story. Ricky Williams played football. Played it really well. In fact, he still holds the college career rushing record, which is an amazing feat in football. Last weekend, Ricky Williams decided football was too small for him. After 5 short seasons playing professional football, Ricky declared, "I'm finally free." and retired at the ripe old age of 27. He said he bought a one-way ticket to Asia and didn't know when he was coming back. Who can argue with that?

The sports world can. For the last couple of days, people have been frantically scrambling to make sense of the decision, but if you can't understand, you probably never will. Ricky walked away from fame and even more riches than he's already amassed (it's been estimated he's got a cool 10 million to live off), but for many people in the sports world, this is still too confusing. Why wouldn't someone want more fame, more money, more trophies? Where's his competitive spirit? Maybe the answer is in what people are saying about him.

In the last two days I've heard people say he was a strange kid trapped in a football player's body. That he actually hated the game he excelled at. Hated the jock mentality and the macho posturing that came along with it. (In fact, he once got into a fist fight with his high school coach because he refused to take out his tongue stud.) That he was sick of the drug testing he had to endure, because he was known to enjoy marijuana. That he was afraid to end up like former NFL great Earl Campbell, who now looks as frail as a person 30 years his senior. But all of that is just poor speculation.

Personally, if someone feels their health is at risk, I don't need any further excuse. But my favorite explanation was from Ricky himself. Ya see, Ricky's suffered from social anxiety syndrome. For years, he's taken medication for it. He's talked about how he never had the confidence to do anything that wasn't expected of him. He said he could never go dancing because he felt too self-conscious. Playing football was natural, since people expected him to. But his condition improved. So much so, he's gone off medication and, as he put it best last weekend, "I was never strong enough to not play football, I'm strong enough now."

Enjoy Asia, Ricky.

Side note: a friend of mine has a brother who works for the University of Texas, where Ricky played in college. He said Ricky contacted them about a teaching position in the physical education department whenever he returns.

Cultural Significance

2004-07-27T10:59:00.000-07:00

So I bought my nephew a T-Shirt in the Castro of Mr. T and his most famous quote "I Pity the Fool!" Thing is, he's 4, leaving my brother and sister-in-law the awkward task of trying to explain the cultural significance of the mean looking black man on his new favorite shirt. Where does one begin? Back in the Caveman days, they'd similarly pass down oral history, giving the children a sense of who they are and where they came from. -And I'm sure they had their own Mr. T's back then, except instead of boxing thick-headed Italians or living in his van with George Peppard, they were thinking of new, interesting ways to bring down a Woolly Mammoth, or some boring story that predates underappreciated Hollywood writers and their magnificent storytelling formulas.

Donnie (the brother) told me Jack(the nephew) was wearing the shirt at a party recently and a number of people immediately asked him to explain himself, which he did by simply saying, "Jeff gave it to him," and apparently that exempts one from further explanation.

I do hope, someday Jack's path will naturally cross with the Mr. T legacy(probably in history class), and he realizes the merit and magnitude of the random gift that confuses him so much today. As Patton Oswalt explains on his brilliant new CD, it's every parent's duty to be as lame as possible in the eyes of their children, thus ensuring when the child inevitably rebels, they'll be heading in the right direction in regards to music, movies, an in this case T-Shirts. In Patton's own words, the only CD every parent should have is Phil Collins's No Jacket Required. It's sure to send any rebelling child straight to Velvet Underground, The Pixies, and their modern day equivalents (whoever they are). Hell, any kid rebelling against parents with cool taste is on a collision course with a Young Republican convention. -Sends shivers down my spine.

So if it's every parent's duty to be lame, it's just as imperative the screw-up California uncle provide small flashes of what to expect when they decide to move to the big city "to find themselves." So, what might initially seem like a random thoughtless gift, is actually nature's beautiful way of revealing the rich pop culture history waiting for every child. Because, the Children are Our Future, damnit!

One last thing, and prepare for true shock and awe, check out this link Andrew sent for "Vintage" T-Shirts:
http://www.vintagevantage.com/productcats.php?productcat_id=1&view_all=true
I swear to Buddha, I must have had at least three of these, but threw them out. The prices are real, no joke.

Sox/Yanks

2004-07-25T18:08:00.000-07:00

Here we go...

First off, Jason Varitek lived every New England baseball fan's dream when he slugged Alex Rodriguez in the face last night (New England, parts of Seattle, Texas, and the US proper). Bravo, Jason! Initially, he was only walking out in front of A-Rod to keep him from charging his pitcher. While A-Rod launched multiple explitives towards the mound, Varitek remained calm and told him to shut up and take his base. In respose, A-Rod tried to re-direct his words to a target substantially closer, which he soon found out has more immediate consequenses than someone standing 45 feet away. Immediately after he suggested to Varitek, "Fuck you too!", he was met with a double-fisted blow to the face. Now, there's a lot of advantages to having truck-fulls of money, but obviously that won't exempt you from a beating you might deserve. Although he probably didn't realize it, that one extra-curricural maneuver all but assured that the Sox will re-sign Varitek at the end of the year when his contract is up. Everyone wins.

More thoughts on the rivalry:
Before tonight's game, ESPN interviewed fans entering into Fenway Park and a couple of the Yankee fans complained the Sox fans are obnoxious. No Doubt, but if there's one group of fans that make the Sox fans seem civilized, it's ego-centric Yankee fans. Compared to the rest of the country, both Fenway and Yankee Stadium are cave-man conventions, but for a Yankee fan to complain about Sox fans, would be the same as complaining that the Sox have an over-sized payroll (second highest in the league, but still 60 million less than the Yankees).

While watching Friday's game, I once again playfully referred to Yankee Japanese left-fielder Hideki Matsui as "Jackie Chan", to which I was imediately told how racist and inappropriate that was. Tonight I'm reminded that Matsui's official nick-name is "Godzilla". So how the hell is "Jackie Chan" inappropriate, but the Japanese fire-breathing product of nuclear-phobia fine?

Aye, how come Yankee right-fielder, Gary Sheffield gets to defy the Yankee rule prohibiting facial hair? Even though it's one of those weak, 14-year old Metal-head pube-staches, it's still officially a mustache. Is there a discipline problem in the Bronx?

Jason Giambi. Initially, it was reported he caught an infection from Sheffield. No big deal. Then, it was reported he had some mysterious parasite. They managed to curb it's effect with medication, but it still hasn't gone away and they're yet to know exactly what it is. I fully expect, and hope, whenever he returns to the line-up he collapses while playing first base, only to have a small alien burst out from his abdomen, surprising everyone except John Hurt and Sigourney Weaver. Seriously, though, I do hope Giambi returns to perfect health. It would be horrible if he has some deadly new disease. I mean, there's already one disease named after a dead Yankee, how horrible would it be if we had to recognize "Jason Giambi's Disease" as well as Lou Gehrig's Disease? To this day, there are still some confused residents in the Bronx who refer to airplane crashes as a "Thurmond Munson Event".

Investigative Journalism at it's Best

2004-07-25T16:13:00.000-07:00

My company has decided to move from San Francisco to Las Vegas. FROM San Francisco, TO Las Vegas. While it might sound absurd, there actually are sound reasons behind the decision, mostly financial. It appears there'd be an annual savings of a million dollars because of the lack of tax laws in Nevada. Also, since the company intends to hire 300 more people in the customer service department, there would also be a substantial savings with regards to new hires, since the starting salary for the average employee in Vegas is much less than in SF. (Although, managment insists that has nothing to do with the decision, which is about as believable as Jerry Buss saying trading Shaquille O'Neal had nothig to do with Kobe Bryant. Sure, that's the official position, but I'm not buying it. We'll see if they cop the same reasoning when all those jobs get sent to India.)

So now you're up to speed. Therefore, Vegas is on everyone's minds, or as Mick Jones put it, "Should I stay, or should I go?" Thankfully, we have the good "news" people at Time/Warner to let us know what a great place Vegas has turned into since they abandoned the "family-friendly" themes and focused back on the art of silicon implants. As nice and fluffy as Time portrays it, it's in stark contrast to the recent five-part New York Times piece, exposing Vegas as a place of broken dreams and hard living ("Seekers, Drawn to Las Vegas, Find a Broken Promised Land"). In fact, while the Times articles are full of comprehensive profiles and boring statistics, the Time piece revolves around the writer's own quest for a good time, and (surprise!) finding it in the best place to spend your vacation this year, if you're asking him, because you're such good friends. Seriously, it's not like he's been commissioned by the Las Vegas Tourism Bureau, or anything, just in case you're wondering, buddy. After all, such a reputable organization as Time/Warner would never succumb to special interests that they might accidentally benefit from. It's just as a matter of conversation, dude. Vegas is great, understand? (Lots of big tits there, you like that?)

My favorite part of the article is where they attribute the increase in tourism to the re-Sexing Up of Vegas. That's exactly what it has to be. A hugely significant act of international terrorism certainly couldn't be responsible for the decline of American tourism abroad, right? Get real, hippy! Sarcasm aside, the writer really should be embarrassed that he left out the effect of 9/11 on US tourism. Then again, selective non-analysis is par for the Time Magazine course, especially when it works to their advantage.

The last time I was there, and I'm not making this up (not this time), the lady who checked me into the hotel found out I was thinking of moving there and said, "Sure the weather's better in San Francisco, but think of this: If you want to go to France, you just go downtown! You want to go to Egypt, you just go downtown!" To which I wish I said, "Yeah, where do they ever come up with those ideas? Those designers are so damn creative, aren't they?" Now, maybe that attitude has something to do with classic American lethargy, but how can it not be influenced by the new 9/11-inspired suspicion of foreign lands?

On a side note, a friend of mine went to the Paris casino for Bastille Day, and they didn't have anything special going on! -Absolutely no indication of Bastille Day whatsoever! -In a supposedly French-themed casino! What, the, fuck?! I guess that's what happens when you let toothless rednecks pretend they're French in public.

Dereliction

2004-07-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

I thought long and hard on a title and am still not completely happy with this one, but I think the word dereliction fits best. Not, derelict as in the social misfit definition. Rather dereliction, as in "dereliction of duty", an intentional abandonment. Like if you fail to show up for your military physicals because you're too busy blowing lines of coke off a hooker, as our president did. Or if you fail to show up for your life for the very same reasons, like I have. Dereliction.

I was going to call it the Daily Derelict, but that would imply I was going to write it every day, which isn't likely. Then again, Derelict would make it clear I'd be intentionally abandoning it from time to time, regardless of the "Daily" part, so it would make perfect sense, in a ridiculous way.

Anyway, here we go. Went to the bar Anu last night at 6th and Mission. Damn that neighborhood has changed! I used to tell people it was the worst corner in San Francisco, and while it definitely still has sketch wandering about, it's no where near as bad as it was 6 years ago. I guess it's just a matter of time before the hipsters invade every bad neighborhood. So get used to black-rimmed glasses, Hunter's Point.

Entertainment was provided by reknowned British superstar-slacker DJ, James Lavelle, who is (or was) the resident DJ of Fabric in London when I went there 3 years ago. The music was great, and the crowd was really friendly. The first guy I met while waiting for Andrew to show turned out to be the opening DJ. It's nice to be talking to a complete stranger and have them say, "Hey, gotta go now," only to see them behind the turntables 15 minutes later. Met another dude who just moved here from Manhattan and he couldn't stop talking about how much he likes SF so far. He kept saying how friendly and nice people out here are. He was definitely a New Yorker, but not of the Meathead fashion. I told him that, while I still love the Northeast, all the people I really liked from back there have made their way through the Bay Area at one point or another. It seems it's only the loud obnoxious Yankee and Sox fans who don't like SF, which is great for us. While I'll always be a Sox fan, just one night in Fenway with all those brutish assholes, waiting for their delusional Corrs Light fantasies to come true, never fails to make me proud to be a Californian.